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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110602">We Used To Be Friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor'>gluupor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adoption, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Veronica Mars Fusion, Andrew lives with the Spears, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Classism, Demisexuality, Detectives, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Neil is Wymack's son, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Character Death, Racism, involuntary outing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:02:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>104,576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil's life is thrown into disarray when his best friend is murdered. As he starts his senior year of high school, he finds himself on the outside looking in, a social pariah whose former friends are only too willing to bully and ostracize him.</p><p>Working for his father, a private investigator, leads him to evidence that his friend's murder may not be as straightforward as it seems. Neil throws himself into the investigation, hoping that solving the case might help him regain some of what he lost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, past Kevin Day/Neil Josten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>867</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1317</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote a large chunk of this last November for NaNoWriMo, and it's almost completely finished, so I'll be updating weekly. This is a Veronica Mars AU; however, familiarity with the show is not required. I've tried to tag all the content warnings above and will list any potential triggers in the notes of each chapter, but be aware the overarching plot concerns the violent murder of a teenager. None of the content is more detailed/gory/explicit than AFTG canon.</p><p>Warnings for this chapter: reference to past murder/character death, homophobia, some classism, minor racism, reference to involuntary outing, reference to non-consensual drug use, reference to child abuse</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Life’s a bitch and then you die</em>.</p>
<p>That’s the maudlin thought floating through Neil’s brain as he circles the student parking lot looking for a spot. His trusty 1994 Chrysler LeBaron convertible looks out of place among the brand new Mercedes and BMWs and Audis and Lexuses (Lexi?) driven by his wealthy classmates, but he’s used to it by now. There are only two types of people who live in Palmetto, California: millionaires and those who work for them. Neil’s one of the have-nots and he’s lucky to have a car at all. It doesn’t matter if it’s ten years old and cost him all of $500 cash at a junkyard; it gets him where he needs to go.</p>
<p>Which right now is the first day of his senior year of high school. He tries not to let his thoughts wander to the first day of school last year, but he can’t help it. Last year he’d been laughing and making plans with his friends, stupid teenage stuff, all of them thinking they were invincible. A pang hits Neil’s heart. He should be grateful he made it to senior year alive; not all of them did.</p>
<p>He finally spies a spot and carefully wedges his car in between an obnoxious yellow SUV and a generic-looking burgundy sedan. Annoyingly, his top’s up because the forecast is calling for a chance of rain in the afternoon, so he can’t just jump out of his car. He opens his door carefully; he really cannot afford an increase in his insurance premium due to some rich douchebag coming after him for dinging their car.</p>
<p>There are more people than he expected milling about the quad; he tried to arrive as close to the bell as possible to minimize social interactions. He’s not great at keeping his mouth shut so he habitually fails at being invisible (being a universally hated pariah is not as much fun as it sounds), but he also promised his dad he’d try to stop getting into fights. Not talking to anyone is his best bet at keeping that promise.</p>
<p>A large crowd has gathered, surrounding the flagpole that stands in the middle of the courtyard in front of the school’s main entrance. Neil can’t see what everyone’s looking at (the marks along the doorframe his dad used to measure his growth stop two years ago at five foot three inches and haven’t moved since), so he pushes his way to the front of the crowd, ignoring people’s complaints as he shoves them aside.</p>
<p>There’s a boy duct-taped to the flagpole, naked (Neil hopes he’s not <em>completely</em> naked because otherwise pulling the tape off his nether regions is going to hurt like a bitch). He’s tall—it’s hard to tell how much taller he is than Neil because the flagpole’s on a raised platform, but it’s at least a foot—and his gravity-defying hair makes him seem even taller. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s valiantly trying not to make eye contact with his crowd of gawkers. He’s black, which means he’s probably not an 09er (because shock of all shocks the race divide in Palmetto mirrors its class divide), and he has ‘SNICH’ written across his chest in black permanent ink.</p>
<p>“Dude, you’re missing a T,” calls out a stoner asshole as Neil pushes past, chortling at his own joke.</p>
<p>“Who’d he rat out?” Neil hears another guy mutter.</p>
<p>“The bikers,” answers someone else derisively.</p>
<p>“Isn’t anyone going to cut him down?” wonders a girl, sounding scared.</p>
<p>“Sure, and be the one up there tomorrow?” the first guy responds. But apparently there is still some common decency, because as soon as he finishes speaking, he steps up onto the stone platform. Only to pull out his phone to take a selfie with the boy.</p>
<p>Neil sighs and steps up beside him. He doesn’t particularly care about the bikers’ latest victim, but clearly no one else is going to do anything. At least he can’t damage his reputation any further than it’s already been tarnished. “Move,” he says, pushing the selfie kid out of the way.</p>
<p>“Who died and made you—” he starts to complain, but he cuts himself off as Neil brandishes his trusty switch knife, snapping it open threateningly. “Man, you really are a freak,” he says as he quickly makes his retreat.</p>
<p>Neil starts sawing through the duct tape attaching the boy to the pole. “New here?” he asks, looking up at him. He looks around Neil’s age, and Neil’s pretty sure he knows all the juniors and seniors at least by sight. “Welcome to Palmetto High.”</p>
<p>The bell rings and the crowd starts to disperse.</p>
<p>“Go Foxes!” Neil cheers sarcastically at all the departing sheep. God, he hates high school.</p><hr/>
<p>Lunchtime is definitely the worst part of Neil’s day. At least during classes there is assigned seating and something to ostensibly pay attention to. At lunch, all he has is his tray with unidentifiable greyish mush, a sad, forlorn-looking piece of fruit, and so-called dessert which is possibly a living organism that will crawl away if he doesn’t watch it closely enough.</p>
<p>He pokes at his “food” suspiciously and tries not to let his eyes wander over to where they feel like they’re being pulled by magnets: the cluster of tables where the popular kids sit. At Palmetto High the popular kids are synonymous with the rich kids. Neil’s father had been the sheriff until last spring, which held a certain cachet, but the only reasons Neil had been allowed past the velvet rope were the Day-Moriyama brothers. Jean had been his best friend. And Kevin had been his boyfriend.</p>
<p>“You okay?” says a voice, too close for comfort.</p>
<p>Neil jumps in surprise, angry at himself for getting so caught up in watching his former friends that he lost track of his surroundings. During his distraction, the boy from the flagpole managed to sit at his table and start emptying a brown paper lunch bag. Neil stares at him.</p>
<p>“You seemed like you were on another planet,” the boy remarks.</p>
<p>“Did I say you can sit here?” demands Neil, hostile due to his momentary lapse in vigilance.</p>
<p>The boy’s open, friendly face shutters and he starts shoving his lunch back into the bag.</p>
<p>“No, wait,” says Neil, feeling like a heel. “You can sit here. I just don’t know why you’d want to. I’m Neil.”</p>
<p>“Matt,” the other boy offers. “And thanks. For cutting me off the pole this morning.”</p>
<p>Neil shrugs, uncomfortable with Matt’s earnest gratitude. He’s more used to sneers and insults.</p>
<p>“You’re right, I’m new,” continues Matt, undeterred by Neil’s unresponsiveness. “And you seem like you know what’s going on. So what of it? Who’s who at Palmetto High? Who should I know and who should I avoid at all costs?”</p>
<p>“I suggest you avoid whoever duct-taped you to a flagpole,” replies Neil dryly.</p>
<p>Matt huffs. “How about those kids you were staring at? Who are they?”</p>
<p>“09ers,” says Neil. “Their friendliness is directly proportional to how large your bank account is.”</p>
<p>“09ers?” repeats Matt.</p>
<p>“Those that hail from the prestigious 90909 zip code,” explains Neil. “If they had it their way, they’d be the only residents in Palmetto. But then who would clean their houses and chauffeur them around?”</p>
<p>Matt gives him a friendly smile. “Rich kids, huh?”</p>
<p>“Unbelievably rich kids,” corrects Neil. “That one, in the middle there, with the black hair? That’s Kevin Day-Moriyama, son of Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama.”</p>
<p>“As in DayMo Software?” asks Matt. “The inventors of streaming video?”</p>
<p>“The very same,” says Neil. “The blonde plastered to his side is Allison Reynolds, like the Reynolds Hotel chain.” He’s already heard the gossip filtering through the hallways that Allison and Kevin are now an item. He tries not to let it bother him. (The first time Kevin had flaunted a new relationship after their breakup—their <em>secret</em> breakup because neither of them had been ready to be out in high school, and Kevin in particular was adamant that everyone think he was completely heterosexual—he’d had to leave his second period class to dry heave in the bathroom, but he is used to it now.) “And beside her is Janie Smalls, whose father is the cultural attache to Belgium, and across the table is Paris Richards whose family owns an airline.”</p>
<p>“Jesus. And those other three?”</p>
<p>“The Latino one is Nicky Hemmick, his dad’s a televangelist. The short, blond guy beside him is his cousin Aaron Minyard. Aaron used to be one of us—he lived a couple blocks from where I do—until his mom married rich. Now he lives in the most expensive house in the 09 zip. And then he found out about his long lost twin brother.”</p>
<p>“His long lost twin brother? That’s some soap opera shit, Neil.”</p>
<p>“You’re telling me,” nods Neil. “You can tell them apart by the way Aaron’s twin always wears black armbands. That’s him there, the one who’s grinning at us like a homicidal clown. Andrew Spear.” He wonders what’s put the grin on Andrew’s face; his habitual expression is more stoic.</p>
<p>“Spear?” echoes Matt. “As in…?”</p>
<p>“Richard and Cass Spear,” Neil fills in. “Hollywood royalty. You’ve probably also heard of Andrew’s brother Drake since he’s starring in that superhero franchise.”</p>
<p>“I’ve seen a bunch of those movies,” enthuses Matt. “I think I got an action figure of him in my Happy Meal a couple weeks ago.”</p>
<p>Neil rolls his eyes. “Lucky you.”</p>
<p>“How about him?” asks Matt, nodding to a table separated from the rest.</p>
<p>“Ah,” says Neil, glancing at where Matt indicated. “You know how every high school has its obligatory psychotic jackass? We are lucky enough to have two. Andrew and him: Riko Moriyama.”</p>
<p>“Moriyama?”</p>
<p>“He’s Kevin’s cousin, yes. But their fathers have had some kind of weird feud going for almost their entire lives, so they’re not close. Riko’s even more self-important than the garden variety 09er. In our freshman year he declared himself King of Palmetto High, and tried to appoint the other 09ers as his court.”</p>
<p>“That’s insane.”</p>
<p>“That’s Palmetto,” corrects Neil.</p>
<p>“And everyone just went along with his delusions of grandeur?”</p>
<p>“And admit that he had superiority over them?” scoffs Neil. “God, no. I mean, a couple did, like the guy sitting beside him, Ricky Williams? But most people just ignore him when he goes off on his rants.”</p>
<p>“He, uh, I don’t think he likes you,” says Matt, as Riko notices their attention and his gaze narrows and sharpens. He points at Neil and then slowly drags a single finger across his throat.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s a charmer,” says Neil sarcastically. That reminds him: he still owes Riko payback for what he did last spring. “There you have it. The Palmetto High elite. All with six-figure trust funds.”</p>
<p>Matt whistles, impressed. “My dad’s a plastic surgeon and my mom’s a boxer, but I’m comfortably middle class, not… that.”</p>
<p>“This town doesn’t have a middle class,” says Neil. “You’ll end up on one side or the other.”</p>
<p>Matt opens his mouth to reply but stops when he catches sight of something over Neil’s shoulder. He pales and seems to shrink in on himself, staring down at his lunch. Neil is very familiar with trying to make himself unobtrusive, so he glances back and is unsurprised when he sees Seth Gordon coming towards them, flanked by a couple of his lackeys.</p>
<p>“My bitch!” says Seth jovially, spreading his arms wide. He sits next to Matt, inserting himself into his space as an intimidation tactic. “I <em>thought</em> I told you to wait for me at the flagpole. I could not have been more clear about it.”</p>
<p>Matt stutters and laughs nervously, his eyes darting around wildly. “Ha ha, man,” he says. “You got me. Guess we’re even now.”</p>
<p>“We’re nowhere close to even,” replies Seth, dropping his voice. “You’re a dead man walking, you know that, right?”</p>
<p>“Leave him alone,” says Neil, speaking before he consciously decides he’s going to. He doesn’t like the expression on Matt’s face and he’s never been good at keeping his head down and his mouth shut.</p>
<p>“Oh ho, boys, homo’s got something to say,” chuckles Seth, getting up and rounding the table.</p>
<p>“Don’t get too close,” warns one of his friends, an idiot named Dwayne who deserves a taser to the face.</p>
<p>“What, he might catch the gay?” asks Neil sardonically.</p>
<p>“Nah, you’ll get a hopeless crush as soon as you see my gorgeous face up close,” says Seth arrogantly.</p>
<p>“You <em>do </em>look pretty hot,” says Neil, consideringly. He pauses before adding, “Literally. It’s a hundred degrees out here, isn’t all that leather overkill?”</p>
<p>“Don’t mess with my aesthetic,” says Seth. “Someone’s gotta provide a counter to all the preppy white boys around here.”</p>
<p>“Ah, so you’re trying to entice all the good girls into making bad decisions,” says Neil sagely. “Hoping to catch an 09er with daddy issues?”</p>
<p>“None of your business, fag.”</p>
<p>“Clever insult as always, Seth,” sighs Neil. “Real pithy. Can you take your dick measuring somewhere else? I’m trying to eat.”</p>
<p>Seth smirks, cupping his junk suggestively. “There isn’t a ruler in this school long enough to measure my dick.”</p>
<p>“It’s that big?” asks Neil, pretending to be impressed. “Well, whip it out, then. If it’s as big as you say it is, I’ll make you a trophy.”</p>
<p>“A trophy?” asks Seth, amused despite himself.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Neil, holding his hands up in demonstration. “Palmetto High’s Biggest Dick.”</p>
<p>“Seth, don’t let that fag talk to you like that, man,” says Dwayne.</p>
<p>“Sounds like your buddy wants to see it, too,” Neil says, cocking his head. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already; I mean, there’s only one reason for joining an all boys club where you spend all your time straddling a big ‘ol hog.” He coughs the words, “Repressed homosexuality,” into his elbow.</p>
<p>Dwayne takes a couple threatening steps towards him, but the gathering has finally caught the eye of one of the teacher chaperones. “What’s going on here?” Mr. Whittier, the Vice Principal, demands.</p>
<p>Seth puts up his hands, feigning innocence. “Nothing,” he says. “We were just talking.”</p>
<p>“And now you’re leaving.” Mr. Whittier crosses his arms and waits expectantly.</p>
<p>Seth points a finger gun at Matt. “Bang,” he says as he saunters away.</p>
<p>“First day of the school year,” says Mr. Whittier, his eyes narrowed on Neil. “Should have known it’d be you in the middle of trouble.”</p>
<p>Neil grins insincerely and salutes him.</p>
<p>“So…” drawls Neil, once Mr. Whittier has taken his leave with a final glare. “Seems like you made friends with the PCH bikers.”</p>
<p>“PCH?”</p>
<p>“Pacific Coast Highway, it spans their territory. What did you do? Why are you a dead man walking?”</p>
<p>Matt sighs gustily. “Okay, so, I work at the Sac ‘n Pac, alright? And last night, two dudes came in, went straight to the back and started shoving bottles right into their coats. They weren’t even trying to be stealthy about it, so I hit the silent alarm. On the way out, one of them took a pack of gum, threw a one dollar bill at me, and told me to keep the change. That’s when the police showed up.”</p>
<p>“First of all, a job at the Sac ‘n Pac? You are definitely not an 09er, my friend,” says Neil. “And second of all, Palmetto’s too small to have a police force. We have a sheriff, and he is a terrible human being and a moron. I have more faith that McGruff the Crime Dog will protect this town than sheriff Browning.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, he came inside and made me follow him out to the parking lot. Where that guy Seth and a whole pack of thugs on motorcycles were waiting. Browning tells me that they claim they paid for what they took. And since I have no intention of getting murdered by some Hell’s Angels wannabes I agreed, said I’d hit the alarm by mistake. But I’d forgotten we also have surveillance. Cops took the video and are pressing charges against the bikers. Browning told me to grow a spine.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” says Neil. “In your short time here you’ve already made enemies out of the PCHers and the sheriff. I mean, those people don’t like <em>me</em> either, but I really had to work at it.”</p>
<p>Matt slumps miserably.</p><hr/>
<p>After school, Neil heads home. He and his dad live in a ground floor two-bedroom apartment in a low-income part of town. The two-story complex is U-shaped, with all units facing the central courtyard and communal pool. Neil doesn’t stay long; he’s only there to pick up his dog.</p>
<p>They take a quick run on the beach (where he spots Matt flying a remote controlled plane; Matt waves enthusiastically, but Neil shrugs him off. He doesn’t have friends and Matt will probably drop him as soon as he hears all the rumours, anyway), and then head into Palmetto’s shopping district, parking outside an office front in a strip mall. The frosted glass door has a logo consisting of a pyramid with an open eye at the summit. <em>Wymack Investigations</em>, it reads, <em>David Wymack, PI</em>. Neil pushes his way inside, slobbering pitbull on his heels, and dumps his school bag behind the reception desk, pulling out his MacBook as he does so. He’s in the midst of setting it up on the desk when a voice calls him from the attached office.</p>
<p>“Neil, is that you?” A tall, gruff man who describes himself as a ‘mutt’ (quarter Mexican, one-third Phillipino, half-black, and some other ethnicities thrown in there) comes to the entrance of the office and leans on the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. The stance makes him look tough and imposing, especially since it shows off the full-sleeve tattoos featuring flames and tribal patterns. He’s greeted effusively by happy barking and a wet tongue.</p>
<p>“It’s either me or someone’s sneaking in to do work for you on the sly,” says Neil, taking a seat behind the reception desk and opening his computer.</p>
<p>“How was school?”</p>
<p>“School-like.”</p>
<p>“Neil.”</p>
<p>Neil pastes on a false grin. “I didn’t get into any fights today, just like I promised, Dad!”</p>
<p>“That’s funny, cause I heard you were mouthing off to the bikers.”</p>
<p>“Spying on me?” gasps Neil, dramatically clutching his chest. “Really?”</p>
<p>“You know Chuck and I are old friends.”</p>
<p>“It’s weird when you remind me Vice Principal Whittier has a first name.”</p>
<p>“Stop side-stepping,” says his dad sternly. “Do I have to worry about you either joining or being beaten up by a motorcycle gang?”</p>
<p>“I wish you wouldn’t worry at all. I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m a parent. It’s what we do.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to. Not about this. It wasn’t about me; I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”</p>
<p>His dad sighs and reaches out to ruffle Neil’s auburn curls before heading back into his office, dog following closely behind (because he’s a soft touch that lets him sleep on the loveseat by the window). He blames himself for Neil’s fall from grace, so Neil always tries to sugarcoat how bad things are at school. Nevertheless, his dad always sees through his happy falsehoods.</p>
<p>Neil spends the rest of the afternoon preparing and sending out invoices and fielding calls. There’s only one walk-in, about twenty minutes before they close.</p>
<p>“Look what the cat dragged in,” says Neil as George Waterhouse pushes his way into the office. Waterhouse is a public attorney who does his best with little in the way of support or resources. Unlike expensive defense attorneys, he doesn’t have access to a private investigator, so when he needs something, he comes to them.</p>
<p>“Your dad in?” asks Waterhouse.</p>
<p>“On a call right now,” answers Neil. “It’ll probably only be another few minutes.”</p>
<p>“I may as well tell you,” says Waterhouse. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that even when your dad’s out catching bail skippers all your cases get handled.”</p>
<p>“We’re efficient,” says Neil, with a quirk of a smile. Technically, at seventeen, he’s probably not supposed to be conducting late-night stake-outs, photographing sordid affairs and philandering spouses. But his dad needs his help and he’s good at it.</p>
<p>“Quite,” says Waterhouse dryly, not taken in at all. “I’ve got a client, named Loretta Cancun. She’s a dancer at the strip club on the west side. You know the Seventh Veil?”</p>
<p>“Such classy clientele you have, George.”</p>
<p>“These are my people, kid,” says Waterhouse. “They deserve representation, too, you know. Anyway, the esteemed Ms. Cancun has been arrested for vandalism after she took a baseball bat to the washing machine that ate her quarters. To get out of it, she told me that the Seventh Veil has an arrangement with the sheriff’s department that lets them keep their liquor license, despite their lax ID policy. A sordid arrangement, if you catch my drift.”</p>
<p>“Everyone passing by outside caught your drift.”</p>
<p>Waterhouse smirks and drops a file on Neil’s desk. “Anyway, video or photos corroborating Ms. Cancun’s story would be greatly appreciated. If <em>your dad</em> has time.”</p>
<p>“I’ll make sure he does,” says Neil, taking the file and flipping through it. Easy enough. One surveillance video of deputies getting blowjobs from the Seventh Veil’s dancers and they’re set. He can probably get it done this evening: set up the camera on his car’s dashboard and do his math homework while it records.</p>
<p>His dad comes bustling out of his office. “That was Joey on the phone,” he says, shrugging into his jacket. “He picked up that bail jumper I’m tracking in El Paso. Another day and he’ll be across the border, so I’ve gotta go.”</p>
<p>“I’ll call the airline, get you a ticket,” says Neil, closing the file from Waterhouse and hiding it under some paperwork.</p>
<p>His dad gives him a shrewd look. “Stay home tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” says Neil. “Sure. I’ve got homework anyway.”</p>
<p>His dad sighs. “Promise me you’ll at least take backup?”</p>
<p>Neil smiles at how well his dad knows him. It makes sneaking around and lying a little difficult, but he remembers before he came to live here. He knows how fortunate he is to have a parent who cares about him. “Of course,” he promises.</p><hr/>
<p>It’s a little before midnight when Neil’s stakeout bears fruit. A sheriff’s department cruiser pulls up in front of the Seventh Veil and the owner comes out to exchange a few words with the deputy inside, before one of his dancers gets in the passenger seat. Neil makes sure he’s recording and then stops paying attention, not interested in witnessing the tawdriness that he’s getting paid to document. Instead, he works on his homework packet by the light of his dashboard.</p>
<p>His concentration is disrupted by the rumbling sound of approaching motorcycles. It’s not unexpected in this part of town—these <em>are</em> the PCHers in-town stomping grounds, after all—but Neil doesn’t believe in coincidences. There’s no way his run-in with Seth earlier in the day has nothing to do with the fifteen or so motorcycles that are suddenly surrounding his car. The sheriff’s department cruiser pulls a U-turn and eases out of sight in the opposite direction, both cowardly and smart enough not to oppose the gang single-handedly.</p>
<p>“Look alive,” Neil says.</p>
<p>Seth stops his motorcycle a good eight feet away and removes his helmet, motioning for Neil to roll down his window. “Car trouble?” he asks when Neil does.</p>
<p>“Yeah, actually,” replies Neil brightly. “I think it’s a belt issue, but if you wouldn’t mind checking under the hood for me…?”</p>
<p>Seth’s returned smile doesn’t hold any mirth. He makes a hand motion and two of his cronies climb off their bikes, rounding Neil’s car, one from the front and one from the back, presumably to corner him.</p>
<p>There’s a bark and a flash of teeth, and the biker jumps away from the rear passenger window as Neil’s backup makes himself visible. He growls menacingly and half-lunges out of the window so he can be seen in the low light. The bikers eye the large, black pitbull warily.</p>
<p>Neil ignores all that, taking care of the biker closer to him, who happens to be his good friend, Dwayne. As soon as he comes in range, Neil zaps him with his taser, knocking him to the ground. “Stay back,” he says forcefully.</p>
<p>“Call off your dog,” says Seth, grimacing about how his intimidation tactic failed.</p>
<p>“Be calm, Backup,” Neil says. “But just so you know, he is trained to…” he trails off. “A-T-T-A-C-K,” he spells. “Did you get that? I don’t want to give him the command by mistake, but I also know how poor your spelling is based on how you mangled the word snitch this morning.”</p>
<p>“There’s no need for that,” says Seth hastily. Backup’s incisors really are quite impressive. “We’re here to make a deal anyway.”</p>
<p>“Somehow I doubt you’re here with good intentions,” says Neil, gesturing with his taser to the bikes surrounding his car. “It kinda seems like you’re here to threaten me.”</p>
<p>“Well, you want us to leave your new boyfriend alone, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t have a boyfriend.”</p>
<p>“So you’re available to service all of us?”</p>
<p>“That sounds very heterosexual of you, Seth.”</p>
<p>Seth snorts. “See, I’ve heard things about you.”</p>
<p>“Everyone’s heard things about me.”</p>
<p>“That you’re working with your sheriff daddy,” Seth clarifies. “Here’s the deal. You get my boys Damien and Juan off the hook, and we’ll leave you and your boy alone. Got it?”</p>
<p>“Damien and Juan being the two geniuses who stole twenty bottles of alcohol while on Candid Camera?”</p>
<p>“So we understand each other.” Seth moves to put his helmet back on. “If you don’t come through, nothing—not you, not your dog—is going to stop me from getting my pound of flesh.”</p>
<p>“Again, sounding very heterosexual,” Neil deadpans. Dwayne starts to stir and Neil sparks the taser in his direction in case he gets any bright ideas.</p>
<p>“Dwayne, get your ass on your bike,” says Seth, with an eye roll. “Dumbass.”</p>
<p>Neils mind whirs through possibilities on how to get the damning videotape out of the sheriff’s evidence lockup. He has the advantage of knowing the county courthouse inside and out from when his father worked there and a plan starts to come together. Including a chance to get back at Riko.</p>
<p>“Seth, wait,” he says.</p>
<p>Seth pauses, looking at him expectantly, his entire demeanour unimpressed.</p>
<p>“Can you get me a bong?” asks Neil.</p><hr/>
<p>After the bikers leave, Neil sits in his car breathing deeply until his heart rate returns to normal. He’s not a stranger to being in danger, but it never gets easier. Backup whines and presses up against him from the backseat, slobbering all over Neil’s ear. He curls his hand around his dog’s blocky head, taking comfort from his old companion. Backup’s been with him since he was eight years old and just moved to Palmetto.</p>
<p>He doesn’t remember his childhood particularly clearly before that; he remembers his mother and moving around a lot and being in a state of near-constant terror. He doesn’t remember his biological father, except for an instinctual fear and the natural way he has of shying away from men of a certain height and build. He doesn’t know his history at all; his dad hasn’t told him anything—he doesn’t even know if his dad<em> knows</em> anything—and he hasn’t seen his mom since she left him on a small-town sheriff’s front stoop with a note, a warning not to trust anyone, and a promise that she’d be back for him.</p>
<p>His first few days and weeks in Palmetto are blurry. From what his dad has told him, he refused to speak to anyone at first. He was obedient to a fault and wary of everything. Backup was the first thing he latched onto. His dad had been called to break up an animal trafficking ring, and had forced to bring Neil along with him, not having any childcare set up yet. Backup was one of the puppies found in the compound: tiny, black, missing one eye, and cringing away from everyone. According to his dad, Neil had scooped him up into his arms and the two of them have been inseparable ever since. They protected each other and made each other more comfortable around other people. Neil’s dad always laments that Neil came out of his shell and almost immediately began running his mouth.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Neil assures Backup, feeling settled now. He’s about to turn on his car and go home, when another car pulling into the by-the-hour motel across the street from the Seventh Veil catches his attention. The car is a Mercedes S-series, far too nice for this part of town. He watches, confused, as Kengo Moriyama climbs out of it. He looks around with distaste and brushes off his suit, before making his way to the second story of the motel and knocking on door 213. It opens quickly and he disappears inside.</p>
<p>Neil’s moment of dumbfoundedness passes quickly. He grabs his camera, a Nikon 8800 with a telescopic lens, and starts snapping pictures. Kengo Moriyama is Riko’s father, a billionaire real estate developer and local pillar of the community. He’s also supposedly happily married; getting pictures of him having what appears to be an affair will be worth money—potentially a lot of money.</p>
<p>Plus, it will serve him right if Neil’s the one to take him down. Neil has no love lost for the Moriyama family.</p><hr/>
<p>Neil naps through his morning classes and is still blinking sleepily at lunchtime, which is the only explanation for how he fails to notice that Matt is occupying his usual lunch table until he sits down.</p>
<p>“Man, you should hear the things people say about you,” is how Matt greets him.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard,” says Neil shortly. “And you should be careful. After two days sharing a lunch table everyone’s going to assume we’re sleeping together.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well,” huffs Matt derisively, “I <em>could</em> sit with all those assholes who took pictures of me and made jokes when I was taped to that flagpole. <em>Or</em> I could sit with the dude who actually cut me down. Let them talk.”</p>
<p>Warmth unfurls in Neil’s stomach. He’s not used to people standing by him. He suppresses a smile, wondering if it’s possible Matt hasn’t actually heard the worst gossip. “Aren’t you going to ask?”</p>
<p>“Ask what?”</p>
<p>“If it’s true,” says Neil.</p>
<p>Last spring, after his dad lost his job as sheriff and the Wymack family became public enemy number one, Neil attended Janie Smalls’ spring party to make a statement: I am not intimidated by you. He probably shouldn’t have. Someone—he still has no idea who—decided to punish him. He picked up a drink without paying much attention to what was in it. Turns out it was a basic rum, coke, and roofie. He still has no idea what exactly happened that night, but he woke up alone and shirtless in the guest bedroom. Two days later, a video was emailed to the entire school body showing Neil making out with Nicky Hemmick. Nicky’s wealth and connections to his even wealthier cousins saved his reputation, but Neil was suddenly the school’s punching bag for being both slutty and gay on top of being a so-called traitor.</p>
<p>“The way I see it, that’s your business,” shrugs Matt. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m not straight,” says Neil wryly, “but I don’t think I’m gay.” He isn’t actually sure what he is. Until Kevin asked him out, he assumed he didn’t swing at all.</p>
<p>“Fair enough,” smiles Matt. He leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I don’t think I’m either of those things, either.”</p>
<p>“Don’t say that too loudly. Trust me, this school is not the friendliest place to be out.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I told you I heard what people were saying,” says Matt. “You know what else they were saying? That you used to sit over there.” He nods over to the 09er table where Kevin, Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky are clustered. Other than Allison, who is still plastered to Kevin’s side, they have different hangers-on today.</p>
<p>Neil hums, frowning. “Did they say why I don’t anymore?”</p>
<p>“Something about you being a traitor…” Matt trails off.</p>
<p>“I assume you know Kevin’s brother was murdered last year?” asks Neil, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.</p>
<p>It still hurts, every day. It had come out of the blue to ruin everything. On a Saturday in February, Valentine’s Day, Neil (being freshly dumped and in no mood for artificial romance) spent the day volunteering at the sheriff’s office as his dad put in an overtime shift. They were headed home when a call came in over the radio about a disturbance at the Day-Moriyama estate. His dad told him to stay in the car, but he could see Kevin sitting on the front stoop, totally catatonic while rocking back and forth. When Neil couldn’t get any information from him about what had happened, he pushed past the deputies through the house to the scene of the crime. Jean had been lying in a pool of blood, skull caved in at the temple. The image is burned on the inside of Neil’s retinas and makes frequent appearances in his nightmares.</p>
<p>“It was all over the news,” says Matt delicately.</p>
<p>“Well, if you followed the news, then you must have heard about the local sheriff who bungled the case by trying to pin the murder on Tetsuji Moriyama? The sheriff who was ousted in an emergency recall election, only for an anonymous tip to lead the new sheriff to the murderer less than two weeks later? That bumbling sheriff was my dad.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Matt, clearly at a loss of what else to say.</p>
<p>“Needless to say, we Wymacks aren’t particularly popular with the Day-Moriyamas or their supporters anymore. And they’re royalty in this town. When they went public with streaming video, everyone who worked for DayMo software became millionaires, even the secretarial pool. Saying anything against them in Palmetto is nothing short of blasphemy.”</p>
<p>“Well…” says Matt. “Fuck them. They seem like assholes.”</p>
<p>Neil’s surprised into laughing. “God, you have no idea,” he says, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Anyway, speaking of assholes, do you want me to get the PCHers off your back?”</p><hr/>
<p>Neil’s dad arrives back home that evening, flush with cash from the bail jumper he successfully caught.</p>
<p>“How was your night? Get into any trouble?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Nope,” says Neil, deciding not to mention his run-in with the PCHers. “Except I saw something strange. I was over near the Camelot motel and I saw Kengo Moriyama having what looked to be an affair.”</p>
<p>His dad groans in exasperation. “I have a vivid memory of telling you to stay in.”</p>
<p>“You told me to take Backup,” Neil corrects. “Anyway, I got a picture of him, but I didn’t get any of who he was with. I <em>did</em> get a picture of the license plate of the person staying in the room Moriyama went into. I figured you could run it?” He hands over the shot.</p>
<p>His dad’s expression flickers briefly before shuttering. “Stay away from the Moriyamas,” he says.</p>
<p>“What, you’re not even going to see who it is?” demands Neil.</p>
<p>“No,” says his dad. “No one’s hired us to do this. Why would I?”</p>
<p>“Because it could be worth money?”</p>
<p>“We’re not in the business of blackmail,” says his dad shortly.</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“Neil,” interrupts his dad, sharper than usual. “Drop it.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” says Neil, holding up his hands in surrender. And he will. For now.</p><hr/>
<p>Despite initial misgivings of Neil setting him up, Seth comes through with a bong. With a few alterations and a piece from Matt’s remote control airplane, it’s ready to be planted. Neil’s good with locks and the school lockers are a joke.</p>
<p>Once that’s taken care of, he pays a visit to Mr. Hernandez. He’s the auto shop teacher, and was the soccer coach for the two years Neil played JV. He’s one of the few teachers who likes Neil and doesn’t think he’s trouble.</p>
<p>“Mr. Hernandez?” he says, lacing his tone with trepidation. “I don’t want to get a reputation for being a snitch, but I saw something I think you should know about? Can I make an anonymous report?”</p>
<p>Mr. Hernandez nods worriedly and listens to Neil’s allegations seriously.</p>
<p>At the end of the day, Neil makes sure to grab Matt and get a good vantage point of Riko’s locker. Matt elbows him in excitement when Mr. Whittier appears in the hall, accompanied by Deputy Towns from the sheriff’s department. They are waiting when Riko arrives.</p>
<p>“Mr. Moriyama,” says Mr. Whittier, frowning seriously. “We need to take a look in your locker.”</p>
<p>Riko scowls, but he knows better than to argue with authority figures, no matter how beneath him he believes them to be. “These random checks are getting ridiculous,” he hisses, slamming open his locker. “You know the Mexican kids are the druggies; target them.”</p>
<p>“And what is this?” asks Mr. Whittier, indicating the bong sitting in plain view once the locker’s open.</p>
<p>“It appears to be a pipe for smoking marijuana,” says Towns, keeping an admirable straight face. “In the shape of a naked woman.”</p>
<p>“So classy, that Seth,” Neil mutters to Matt. Matt grins in response.</p>
<p>“That’s not mine,” says Riko instantly, his face dropping in shock.</p>
<p>“Come with us,” commands Mr. Whittier wearily, as Towns takes the evidence from the locker.</p>
<p>Riko starts walking with the men, arguing his case, when he catches sight of Neil watching his progress. His steps falter and he points accusingly. “<em>You</em>,” he hisses. “You did this.”</p>
<p>“It was an <em>anonymous</em> tip, Riko,” replies Neil, stressing the word anonymous. “As you know, if you do something <em>anonymously</em> you don’t face any repercussions.” It had taken him some time, but Neil wasn’t a PI-in-training for nothing. He knows Riko’s the one who posted the video of Nicky kissing him last spring.</p>
<p>Riko’s face turns even uglier, as he takes a step closer to lord his measly two-inch advantage in height over Neil. “You’ll pay for this.”</p>
<p>Neil fakes a yawn as Riko is escorted away.</p>
<p>“Well, this is fun,” cheers a new voice from behind him. Neil whirls to find Kevin and Andrew; Kevin looks awful, haggard and vacant, while Andrew is grinning like a loon.</p>
<p>“I see the Prozac is working,” replies Neil.</p>
<p>“Always ready with a quip,” says Andrew. “And now you’re starting a revenge tour? You might prove interesting after all. Careful, Kevin, he might come after you next.”</p>
<p>“Or you,” says Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew laughs. “What can you do to someone who’s already in the gutter? Or wait, that’s backwards, isn’t it? <em>You’re</em> the trash.”</p>
<p>“Neil isn’t trash,” says Matt harshly, puffing up in affront.</p>
<p>“And you’ve found yourself a defender!” crows Andrew. “How’d you manage that? Suck him off under the bleachers?”</p>
<p>“Jealous?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew’s smile dims for a moment before it comes back full force. “You’re like an insect, buzzing around being annoying. I, for one, completely approve. As long as you target people I don’t like.”</p>
<p>“So, everyone?” guesses Neil.</p>
<p>“Exactly,” says Andrew. He makes a shooing motion with his hands. “Go forth and annoy, tiny ginger! Annoy like the wind!”</p>
<p>Neil looks at Kevin, who avoids eye contact, simply staring down the hallway listlessly. He wonders what the fuck is going on with Andrew’s manic cheer and Kevin’s apathy. Then he reminds himself that they’re not his friends anymore and he doesn’t care about either of them.</p>
<p>He turns to Matt. “Let’s get Backup and start a fire.”</p><hr/>
<p>The plan is relatively simple, but requires calling in a favour from the fire chief. There are still a fair number of people in town who are loyal to Neil’s dad and willing to do David Wymack’s son a favour. Neil tries not to take too much advantage because he knows the favours aren’t infinite and he wants to keep them until he really needs them. He figures this is a good cause.</p>
<p>Once Deputy Towns returns to the sheriff’s department with the bong, Neil waits half an hour for him to get it checked into the evidence locker before he uses Matt’s remote control to ignite the smoke bomb he hid inside of it. Then it’s just a matter of time before the smoke sets off the fire alarm. Firefighters show up, including his dad’s friend Danny, who has agreed to swap the video with evidence against the bikers with the video Neil took outside the Seventh Veil. Now, when it’s shown in court, it will completely wreck the county’s case and show the sheriff’s department in a bad light. It’s not the most ethical thing Neil’s ever done, but it’s not the worst either.</p>
<p>After paying Danny a visit and picking up the Sac ‘n Pac surveillance video, they’re in the clear. He and Matt head to the beach to let Backup go for a run.</p>
<p>“I was right,” says Matt, as they sit in the sand and watch Backup try to catch seagulls in the surf. “Having you as a friend is a good choice.”</p>
<p>“Are we friends?” asks Neil, tracing a pattern in the sand.</p>
<p>“You better believe it. You just saved my life. I’m going to smother you with friendship. What kind of cookies do you like? I’ll bake you something.”</p>
<p>Neil smiles, feeling touched. His smile falls off his face, however, as he catches movement over near his car. “Shit,” he says, scrambling to his feet. “Backup!”</p>
<p>Riko Moriyama is lounging on the hood of his car, holding a tire iron. Neil clips on Backup’s leash and holds him back, in case Riko tries to hit him.</p>
<p>“You think you’re funny?” says Riko, gracefully sliding down the hood and standing.</p>
<p>“I would probably describe myself as charming and witty more than funny,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Haha,” replies Riko, swinging the tire iron to smash one of Neil’s headlights. Backup barks at the noise. “You know who didn’t find your little stunt <em>funny</em>?” He punctuates the words by smashing Neil’s second headlight. “My dad. He’s less than impressed about my suspension. How about I take that out on your car?”</p>
<p>“How about fuck you?” replies Neil.</p>
<p>Riko’s face clouds, but before he can continue smashing the rumble of motorcycles sounds in the distance. Soon, a group of about seven PCHers comes into view, coming to a stop around Neil’s car.</p>
<p>Seth climbs off his bike and removes his helmet. He looks from Riko to the damage to Neil’s car. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>“This doesn’t concern you,” says Riko dismissively, although he’s very aware he’s outnumbered. He has two of his lackeys with him—Neil doesn’t know their names, but he’s seen them around school—but three is a lot less than seven dangerous looking bikers.</p>
<p>“I recently learned that Tiny Wymack over there is a good person to have owing me a favour,” says Seth easily.</p>
<p>“Let me guess, he got on his knees for you,” sneers Riko.</p>
<p>Seth smiles, but it’s cold and mean. “How about you say sorry and go away?”</p>
<p>“Dream on.”</p>
<p>It takes only one punch before Riko is turning and running, tail between his legs. He’s always been a coward. He gets in his friend’s car and points at Neil through the window. “This isn’t over.”</p>
<p>Neil rolls his eyes. He knows that. He hasn’t repaid Riko nearly enough for the misery he’s caused.</p>
<p>“I hear you got some damning videotape?” says Seth, once Riko’s gone.</p>
<p>Neil rolls his eyes again. “You heard that from me,” he points out. “The charges against Damien and Juan should be dropped soon.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” says Seth approvingly. “You’re not too bad. You know, for a homo.”</p>
<p>“Charming,” drawls Neil. “Is it time for us to get matching best friend t-shirts?”</p>
<p>Seth claps him on the shoulder. “Not yet, but we’ll see.”</p><hr/>
<p>Neil has one last thing to do before he goes home. He heads into his dad’s office, dark and abandoned for the night. Backup’s nails click on the linoleum floor as he follows Neil, until he’s commanded to stay and guard the front door.</p>
<p>Neil’s dad doesn’t know he knows the combination to the safe and Neil has no intention of letting him in on that juicy secret. He’s suspicious about his dad’s reaction to the photo he showed him and the safe holds things his dad doesn’t want him to know about.</p>
<p>He spins the dial quickly, wanting to get through with this as soon as possible. There’s a few files piled inside the safe; he takes the top one (labelled MH) and flips through it. He finds his picture of the license plate, and the results from his dad running it through the DMV database. <em>Celeste Kane</em>, is written in his dad’s spiky handwriting. Neil’s brow furrows. He doesn’t recognize the name. His dad’s included a fact sheet on her, but it’s almost empty. A false identity, then.</p>
<p>He flips through the other papers in the file, and notices a trend. It’s a collection of multiple false identities. About halfway through, he pauses, recognizing one of the names. <em>Lianne Mars</em>. That was his mother’s false name when they lived in Phoenix. Neil had been Alex. The next identity is also familiar, as is the next. Is this file about his mother? Was she the one meeting Kengo Moriyama two nights ago? Why is she in town and why hasn’t she ever come back for Neil?</p>
<p>The questions swirl through his head as he closes the file and shoves it back in the safe. In his haste, he knocks out one of the other files, the thickest one. He swears and kneels on the floor, gathering it up. He stops what he’s doing when the paper he picks up has Jean’s face looking out at him.</p>
<p>It’s the Jean Moriyama murder file. He didn’t know his dad had this, that he’d taken a copy with him when he’d been fired. All his notes from suspect interviews and the crime scene photos and the autopsy reports are included. Neil’s fingers twitch. He really shouldn’t look through the file, he’ll only find it upsetting. But he’s always wondered why his father was so adamant that Tetsuji Moriyama had killed his son. This file has the answers he’s been looking for.</p>
<p>He flips back to the beginning and notices something strange. The most recent date on the internal documents is from less than a month ago. His father is still investigating Jean’s murder? Why? The confessed murderer is in jail. Is this an obsession or something more?</p>
<p>Neil shoves the file back in the safe, knowing he can’t take too much longer without raising his dad’s suspicions about his whereabouts. He’ll have to take a closer look later.</p>
<p>One thing he does know: someone killed his friend and subsequently ruined his happy life. Everything bad that has happened to him in the last year stemmed from Jean’s death. He’s been blaming the man who confessed, but if it’s not him? Then Neil’s going to find the bastard who did it and make them pay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter: referenced child abuse, referenced murder</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil yawns into his breakfast sandwich and forces his eyes open. His late-night surveillance activities are starting to have an impact—and for some reason, his teachers don’t appreciate it when he takes naps during class. Backup nudges his side, his single, liquid brown eye intent on Neil’s breakfast.</p>
<p>“You don’t eat people food,” chides Neil. “You know better than that.” Backup doesn’t look convinced.</p>
<p>“Neil, you know Seth Gordon, right?” asks his dad, stepping out of his inner office, George Waterhouse in tow. He usually doesn’t open his business this early, but Waterhouse called this morning with a case and heavily hinted that having Neil there would be useful.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s in my grade,” says Neil. “He’s mostly an asshole, but he and I found some common ground a couple weeks ago.” When Neil had helped get a couple of guilty bikers cleared of charges and, in turn, Seth had prevented Riko Moriyama from destroying Neil’s car.</p>
<p>“Well, his grandmother was arrested last night,” says Waterhouse.</p>
<p>“What, has Browning decided to start arresting criminals’ relatives now?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“For credit card fraud,” explains Waterhouse. “Maria Navarro works as a maid for Tetsuji Moriyama. She’s accused of stealing pre-approved high-limit credit card offers from his trash and going wild.”</p>
<p>“You don’t think she did it,” guesses Neil.</p>
<p>“Not unless after ten years of loyal service she decided to defraud her employer to start buying…” Waterhouse pulls out a pair of reading glasses and reads off the list of charges, “an Xbox, motorcycle parts, a stay in the honeymoon suite at the Palmetto Grand Hotel, diamond jewellery, limo rides, and Magic Mountain tickets.”</p>
<p>“So it was Seth,” concludes Neil.</p>
<p>“I’ve been picking Seth Gordon up for petty crimes since he was ten years old,” says his dad.</p>
<p>“And he definitely had opportunity, she’s his legal guardian. Maybe one day he was picking her up from work and saw his chance,” continues Waterhouse.</p>
<p>“Can you take point on this one?” asks Neil’s dad. “You have more access to Seth than I do. Help us prove Mrs. Navarro’s innocence.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” replies Neil, standing and shouldering his messenger bag. “I’ll get on it right after my meeting with the guidance counsellor.”</p>
<p>His dad’s eyes narrow. “Why are you meeting with your guidance counsellor?”</p>
<p>“Hmmm, my schedule and my attitude. Not necessarily in that order. Her words.”</p>
<p>His dad pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.</p>
<p>“Apparently I’m disconnected and passionless,” says Neil brightly.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After meeting with Ms. Winfield, the guidance counsellor, and agreeing to replace his first period study hall with journalism class (which is a bummer; first period study hall is a great place to take a nap), he waits in the admin office to update his schedule.</p>
<p>“Hey, buddy,” says Matt, coming out from one of the <em>STAFF ONLY</em> rooms.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“I signed up for diving, but it was cancelled due to lack of interest,” explains Matt. “So they shoved me in here.” He holds up his laminated badge that says <em>Office Aide</em>.</p>
<p>“Sweet,” crows Neil. “That’s awesome.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” askes Matt, dryly. “For who?”</p>
<p>“For me!” enthuses Neil. “You can photocopy Seth Gordon’s attendance records for me.”</p>
<p>“You know I could get in trouble for that,” Matt points out.</p>
<p>“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be my friend,” says Neil. “I have a complex system of reciprocal favours with my friends. Like, say, I get the PCHers not to kill them, and they…” he trails off leadingly and gives Matt two thumbs up.</p>
<p>“Steal confidential school information for you,” sighs Matt.</p>
<p>“That’s the spirit,” says Neil. “Also, can you update my class schedule? I’m already late for journalism, which is chock full of resume-stuffing 09ers. Should be fun.”</p>
<p>“Probably better than Office Aide class,” mutters Matt, taking Neil’s signed form.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Journalism is even worse than Neil expected, since he shares it with his ex-boyfriend, Kevin, Kevin’s bitchy new girlfriend, Allison, and Kevin’s best friend and known Neil-hater, Andrew. Andrew’s odd mania from the start of the school year continues; he cackles when Neil shows up, calls him a rabbit, and proceeds to spend the majority of the class throwing pieces of paper into Neil’s hair. Kevin at least ignores him, while Allison makes several disparaging comments about his clothing, which is nothing new. She used to make similar comments before he was a social outcast.</p>
<p>Not only is the company terrible, but his teacher gives him an assignment. After he tells her he’s willing to take pictures for the school paper (photography is his actual hobby, after all—it still counts even though he mostly takes photos of people doing sordid things), she sends him to the debate club’s meet taking place the following day after school, which not only cuts into his work hours for his dad, but means he has to drive forty-five minutes out of town.</p>
<p>He’s more than a little relieved when class ends.</p>
<p>He corners Seth coming out of auto shop mid-morning. “Tough news about your grandma,” he says, with false sympathy.</p>
<p>Seth glares. “What do you know about that?”</p>
<p>“I’m doing some follow up for her public defender.”</p>
<p>“I met the guy,” sneers Seth. “He thinks I should confess.”</p>
<p>“That <em>would</em> make everything easier,” remarks Neil.</p>
<p>“‘Cause of course it was me.”</p>
<p>“Given your reputation you can’t blame people for thinking—”</p>
<p>“Well, then I guess what everybody says about you is true, too?” interjects Seth. Neil’s mouth snaps shut. “That your split from the 09ers had nothing to do with Jean’s death but was because you had a big gay crush on Kevin and wouldn’t take no for an answer? That you stalk him, send him naked photos of yourself?” Seth scoffs. “You act like you’re a big outsider, but when it comes right down to it, you’re just another stuck-up white person. You still think like one of them.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” says Neil shortly. “Let your grandma serve your time for you. At least you get to keep playing Call of Duty on the Xbox <em>she</em> bought, right?”</p>
<p>Seth’s expression flickers before he regroups. “Fuck off, Shortbus.” He shoulders past Neil and disappears into the crowd.</p>
<p>At lunch, Matt comes through, bringing Neil photocopies of all of Seth’s recent attendance records, as well as his records from summer school.</p>
<p>“Nice work, super spy,” Neil congratulates him.</p>
<p>“I feel like everyone is looking at me,” says Matt fretfully. “Am I too sweaty? I feel too sweaty.”</p>
<p>“You are… probably overly damp,” allows Neil. “But what about that adrenaline, huh?” He takes the photocopies from Matt and spreads them out on the table to compare them to the list of charges from the stolen card that Waterhouse provided.</p>
<p>“Do you have to do that right out in the open?” complains Matt, unpacking his lunch. “You know it’s my ass on the line if you’re caught, right?”</p>
<p>“On the plus side, it’s a nice ass,” says Neil absently.</p>
<p>Matt kicks him.</p>
<p>“Aw, Matty, you know I’ll never give away my sources,” says Neil. “Not without a very stern talking to, at least.”</p>
<p>“I may have been hasty in picking you as a friend,” mutters Matt.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Dad,” says Neil, bursting into his dad’s office after school, “I don’t think Seth did it. Most of the purchases were made online between 8 am and 9:15, and that’s first period. Seth has auto shop first period and according to his attendance records, he was in class. Also—”</p>
<p>“Neil,” his dad cuts him off. “Seth turned himself in this afternoon. He confessed.”</p>
<p>“But…” says Neil, confused. “He couldn’t have done it.”</p>
<p>His dad shrugs, but his shoulders are slumped with exhaustion. “It’s not our problem anymore. Our client is free and the sheriff is convinced he has the guilty party in custody.”</p>
<p>“Seth’s eighteen,” Neil says. “This will go on his permanent record.”</p>
<p>“You know as well as I do that life’s not fair,” replies his dad.</p>
<p>Neil heads out to his desk, mind still churning. Seth’s obviously taking the fall for someone, but who? Does he think his grandmother committed the fraud and he’s covering for her? Or does he know who’s actually responsible? Wondering about it for too long starts to make Neil feel crazy, so he focuses on something else. Namely, what his dad knows about his mother’s whereabouts.</p>
<p>As far as Neil knows, his dad doesn’t know his mom all that well. When Neil has ventured to ask him about it in the past, all he’d tell him was that she was the friend of a friend and he only had a minor acquaintance with her in high school. He doesn’t know why she left Neil with him, except that he was the sheriff at the time and could therefore protect him. He didn’t have a concrete answer when Neil asked what he needed to be protected from.</p>
<p>Neil’s memories of his mother are hazy. His most vivid ones are of her holding him: gripping his wrist tightly in public, pulling him against her side in crowds, sleeping wrapped around him. He can more or less picture her, but she changed appearances so often that he doesn’t know her real hair or eye colour. He didn’t even know her real name until he found his dad’s file. Her full name isn’t included, but his dad refers to her as ‘Mary’ in all his notes, although that could just be another alias.</p>
<p>He’s still thinking about his mother as they close up the office and head home for dinner, which is the only explanation for how he blurts, “What do you think my mom was doing with Kengo Moriyama in the Camelot motel two weeks ago?” halfway through their meal.</p>
<p>His father pauses in his chewing. He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I told you to leave that alone.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t think I’d want to know?” Neil presses.</p>
<p>“Of course you want to know; you’re nosy. That doesn’t mean you <em>should</em> know.”</p>
<p>“But why—”</p>
<p>“No, Neil,” says his dad. “I don’t know what your mother’s up to, but keep yourself out of it. The Moriyamas are rich and powerful and that makes them dangerous.”</p>
<p>“You really think my mother would put me in danger?”</p>
<p>His dad wipes his mouth with a napkin. “All I know is that when I decided to take you in, I vowed to protect you. From everyone. That includes her.”</p>
<p>“She’s my mother.”</p>
<p>“So that eight year old who was terrified to speak out of turn, who flinched whenever I spoke slightly too loudly, and who cringed when he thought he made a mistake—that was someone else? I don’t know your mother’s deal and I don’t know what she’s been through, but I do know you.”</p>
<p>Neil swallows the lump in his throat.</p>
<p>His dad sighs. “I don’t want you to think your mother is a villain—”</p>
<p>“No, you’re right,” Neil cuts him off. “The hero is the one who stays. You taught me that.” He looks up at his dad. “Why did you keep me, anyway? When she dumped me on your doorstep.”</p>
<p>His dad looks bewildered. “What the hell else would I do?”</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head fondly and clears his throat. “I have an idea for how we can prove Seth wasn’t responsible for the credit card fraud.”</p>
<p>“I thought you were dropping that,” his dad groans. “The confessed perp is in jail.”</p>
<p>Neil gives him a flat look. “Just because he confessed doesn’t mean he did it.”</p>
<p>His dad opens his mouth to argue before closing it into a flat line. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>His dad drags Neil by the scruff of the neck into the Palmetto Grand Hotel lobby, much to the dismay and consternation of the impeccably-dressed staff.</p>
<p>“Let go of me,” gripes Neil, ineffectually struggling. His dad shoves him toward the reception desk. “I said I’d do it, now back off!” complains Neil. His dad huffs and gestures at the receptionist, taking a couple steps back before hovering menacingly.</p>
<p>The poor receptionist eyes him warily. “How can I help you?” she asks Neil.</p>
<p>“Hi,” says Neil, putting on his most charming yet sheepish grin. His dad calls it his “guilty smile”. “So, here’s the deal. I stayed in the honeymoon suite last month with a girl who I’m about <em>ninety</em> percent sure wasn’t this man’s daughter,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the glowering man behind him, “or, you know, maybe it’s closer to eighty percent? Tequila is not my friend. Anyway, his daughter is pregnant—” his dad huffs angrily “—and she’s claiming it’s mine. But there’s no way, you know? Anyway, I was hoping that you had surveillance footage or something to prove that the girl I was with wasn’t her and I’m not about to be the father to this man’s grandchild.”</p>
<p>“Uhhh,” is all the receptionist is able to say, looking frightened.</p>
<p>“Here’s the dates I stayed, and the credit card number the room was booked under,” Neil says, handing over the information. “Please, please say you can help? Because otherwise he’s going to tenderize me in the parking lot.”</p>
<p>“Hold on a sec,” she says, taking the papers from him and heading back into the staff area, probably going to find a supervisor.</p>
<p>Neil turns and leans against the reception counter.</p>
<p>“How was that?” mutters his dad, arms crossed and face set.</p>
<p>“Maybe a little much,” says Neil diplomatically. “Bring it down a little.”</p>
<p>“A little?”</p>
<p>“Maybe, like, five percent. But it’s good!”</p>
<p>“I like being bad cop.”</p>
<p>“I can tell.”</p>
<p>His dad’s expression hardens again; Neil turns to see the receptionist returning. “I’m sorry, sir, but we only keep the surveillance for three days,” she says apologetically. “I have your detailed bill here, though. Room service was signed by someone named Allison Reynolds.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” says Neil gratefully, taking the bill. He whirls on his dad. “Ha! Told you so.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” replies his dad dismissively. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t knock Stacy up some other time.”</p>
<p>“Ew, dad, Stacy is your car,” hisses Neil as they leave the building. Stacy was a Chevy Malibu, because his dad was possibly the most embarrassing person on the planet.</p>
<p>“What other daughter do I have?” his dad replies.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next morning in journalism class, Neil stakes out the computer next to Kevin’s. Kevin side-eyes him, but doesn’t react otherwise.</p>
<p>“You know, I’m trying to figure it out,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Andrew, from the other side of Kevin, “is this where the revenge part begins? I can hardly wait to see what you have in store.”</p>
<p>Neil ignores him, which he probably deserves some sort of medal for. Andrew is set on being a nuisance. “You have enough money,” Neil says. “So what possible reason could there be to commit credit card fraud? Are you just bored?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Kevin, staring listlessly at the article he’s supposed to be writing.</p>
<p>“I mean, I guess you’re likely to get away with it. Is that the draw? You figured no one would ever know and someone else would take the fall? Well, you messed up. Taking Allison to the Palmetto Grand and signing for room service tipped your hand.”</p>
<p>Kevin’s face twists in confusion. He looks helplessly toward Andrew.</p>
<p>“You’re full of secrets yourself, Neil,” says Andrew. “Careful or I might poke you and they’ll all fall out.”</p>
<p>“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” retorts Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew blinks once, then puts up his hand obnoxiously. “Ms. Murphy, Neil’s disrupting our work,” he announces loudly.</p>
<p>“Neil, you have no reason to be sitting over there,” Ms. Murphy acquiesces immediately. “Come here and learn how to do a proper layout.”</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head and stands. “You’re not going to get away with this,” he tells Kevin. He can’t tell if Kevin did it or just stood by and let it happen, but either way he holds responsibility. Neil isn’t going to let him forget it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil rushes out to his car after school, only to stop when he notes that all four of the tires are flat. They’re not slashed, at least; the air has been let out of them. This isn’t the first time this has happened since he became public enemy number one, so despite his annoyance, he’s not overly surprised. His dad’ll come help him out once he calls him. The problem is that he’s supposed to be at the debate in less than an hour to take pictures for the paper.</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” says Andrew insincerely as he passes by Neil crouched beside his car.</p>
<p>“Yeah, fuck you, too,” grumbles Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew mock gasps and clutches his chest. “I always knew I was the one you lusted after.”</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head and surveys the lot, weighing his options.</p>
<p>“What about Backup?” says Kevin.</p>
<p>He was blankly trailing in Andrew’s wake, but he comes to a stop beside Neil. Andrew takes a couple steps before he realizes he’s lost Kevin. He flicks a look over his shoulder before shrugging and sauntering towards his own car.</p>
<p>“What about him?” asks Neil, wondering what the hell Kevin is on about.</p>
<p>“Don’t you have to get home to feed him?”</p>
<p>“Uh, no, actually,” says Neil slowly. <em>The fuck?</em> he wonders. <em>Is Kevin making friendly smalltalk? After what happened this morning?</em> “He’s with my dad at the office.”</p>
<p>“It must be nice that he can go to work with your dad now.”</p>
<p>Neil rolls his eyes. “A stable income was preferable, but sure. Taking Backup to the office is nice.”</p>
<p>Kevin sticks his hands in his pockets and doesn’t respond.</p>
<p>“Was there something you needed…?” asks Neil impatiently.</p>
<p>“Doyouneedaride?” Kevin blurts, all in one word. He’s looking everywhere but at Neil.</p>
<p>Neil’s instinctive reaction is to decline, but he does actually need to get to the debate. “I have to get halfway to San Diego,” he says, assuming Kevin will blow him off. It’s far out of his way.</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Kevin easily, turning and heading to his silver BMW SUV.</p>
<p>“Uh,” stutters Neil, but he hurries to follow. He has a feeling that failing his first journalism class assignment will lead to more meetings with Ms. Winfield about his attitude, and getting a ride from Kevin is a marginally better option.</p>
<p>As Kevin pulls out of the student parking lot, the atmosphere inside the car is painfully awkward. Obviously, Neil was wrong about this being better than being in trouble with his guidance counsellor. This is clearly the stupider choice. If someone doesn’t say something in the next thirty seconds, he’s going to throw himself out of the car into traffic.</p>
<p>“This is Jean’s car,” he says, to break the silence and save himself from road rash. He immediately wants to punch himself; they don’t talk about Jean.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” replies Kevin. “I was supposed to get my own on my seventeenth birthday, but…” he trails off. But Jean was murdered eight days before that. <em>Good job on not making things extra awkward,</em> Neil chastises himself.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t at the Palmetto Grand,” says Kevin, as if he’s continuing a previous conversation.</p>
<p>It takes Neil a couple seconds to realize he is responding to the accusation Neil flung at him in class this morning. “Well, Allison was,” he retorts. “Either she was with you or she was with someone else.”</p>
<p>“It was someone else.”</p>
<p>Neil waits, he’s not sure for what. Some kind of reaction. “Don’t you care?” he pushes. “She’s your girlfriend and it sounds like she’s cheating on you.”</p>
<p>Kevin shrugs one shoulder and keeps his eyes forward.</p>
<p>“Seriously, that’s it?” demands Neil. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kevin didn’t always have the <em>best</em> personality—he’s always been pedantic and bossy and arrogant—but at least he had <em>a</em> personality. This apathy is more typical of Andrew—or at least it was until recently.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you mean.”</p>
<p>“I mean, this!” says Neil, waving his arm. “Don’t you have any feelings about your girlfriend cheating on you?”</p>
<p>“Not really.”</p>
<p>“And while we’re on the subject, what the hell is up with Andrew?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>Neil stares at him. “He’s been acting like a coked up gerbil since school started! Haven’t you noticed?”</p>
<p>Kevin bites his lip and doesn’t answer. Neil fumes, but reminds himself that he doesn’t care. Andrew isn’t his friend and Kevin isn’t his anything anymore. It’s not his problem.</p>
<p>The rest of the drive is spent in excruciating silence. He fully expects Kevin to drop him off and leave him there, so he’s very confused when Kevin trails him into the building, evidently waiting to give him a ride home. It’s the last thing he wants. Well, second last thing. He wants to be stranded here even less.</p>
<p>It’s almost dark when they get back on the highway, which somehow makes the oppressive silence more manageable. However, it’s too reminiscent of the past, of day trips out of town they took while they were together. Neil tightly curls his hands into fists and tries not to remember.</p>
<p>About halfway back to Palmetto a siren chirps and lights flash in the rearview mirror, signalling Kevin to pull over. Neil cranes his neck in confusion; Kevin is the most anal driver he knows, keeping his hands at ten and two at all times and obsessively checking his blind spots. He hasn’t done anything that deserves a ticket.</p>
<p>The state trooper comes to the window and asks for license and registration. Then he asks them to step out of the vehicle. Neil and Kevin share a glance, and Kevin asks the trooper if anything is wrong.</p>
<p>“I’ve got an impound notice on this car,” he explains. “Unpaid traffic tickets.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure I don’t have any,” protests Kevin.</p>
<p>The trooper examines his pad. “From February 14th of this year.”</p>
<p>Neil inhales sharply. Jean was killed on Valentine’s day. This car belonged to him at that time. The ticket is his. But he was supposedly at home all day before his death; where had he been driving?</p>
<hr/>
<p>A quick call to the sheriff from the state trooper clears up the mess and Neil gets back to Palmetto unscathed. He and Kevin don’t discuss anything all the way home, each occupied with their own thoughts. Or perhaps Kevin’s mind is as blank as his expression.</p>
<p>Neil calls his dad and arranges to meet him in the parking lot to fill his tires, and then heads home to sleep, questions swirling in his mind.</p>
<p>In the morning, he’s groggy, not having slept well. He goes into his dad’s office before school again, because he might not be able to easily figure out the mysteries surrounding Jean’s death but he can certainly solve the mystery of who Allison Reynolds shared the honeymoon suite of the Palmetto Grand with.</p>
<p>The detailed bill summary has a list of several numbers that were dialed from the hotel room phone. The first is MovieLine, the second is Allison’s mother’s cell phone. The third belongs to Seth Gordon. Neil sits back and contemplates. Maybe Seth is guilty after all; he just has an accomplice.</p>
<p>He finagles the computer next to Allison in class that morning. “So,” he says, quietly enough that they can’t be overheard. “You’re cheating on Kevin with the leader of a motorcycle gang. Is it purely to piss off your parents, or do you enjoy his sparkling wit?”</p>
<p>Allison’s returned grin is sharp enough to cut glass. “Technically it’s the other way around. I’ve been with Seth since last spring.”</p>
<p>“Aw, it’s True Love,” says Neil, batting his eyelashes. “That must be why you’re letting him take the fall for you.”</p>
<p>“So concerned about him,” coos Allison. “Or is it that you think I’m hurting Kevin that’s got you interested? Everyone knows you’re obsessed with him.”</p>
<p>“What I don’t get is why you had to use a stolen card,” says Neil, ignoring her insinuation. “Don’t you have your own VISA Black card?”</p>
<p>“I do,” says Allison, examining her nails, “however, hypothetically, if my parents found out about my tryst with Seth they <em>may</em> have started monitoring its usage.”</p>
<p>“So you stole one from Kevin’s dad when you were over there, assuming he’d never notice. Then you could buy gifts for your boo—like an Xbox for instance—and pay for all your dates. Doesn’t it chafe him that he can’t afford you?”</p>
<p>“No one can afford me; I’m not for sale.”</p>
<p>“Fair enough,” allows Neil. “But clear this up for me: you’re dating Kevin to appease your parents, but still seeing Seth on the side. Why let him go to jail if you actually care about him?”</p>
<p>“What do you want me to do, confess? You know what would happen to me.”</p>
<p>“A rich, white, female teenager? You’ll get a slap on the wrist. Seth is eighteen, brown, and has priors. He’s not coming back from this.”</p>
<p>Allison’s façade finally cracks. “You know <em>exactly</em> how this school reacts to anyone’s fall from grace,” she hisses.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m sure Seth will be very comforted knowing he ruined his future to protect your reputation,” says Neil acidly, before getting up and heading to show Ms. Murphy his photographs from the debate.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil has many talents; making fake IDs is one of them. Also: disguises. Your standard PI toolkit. On Saturday morning, he throws on a dark wig, puts in brown contact lenses, and prints off a new ID: it’s his picture (in disguise) but the name reads Jean Moriyama.</p>
<p>Weekends are usually staffed by the people lowest in the pecking order at the county courthouse; that means they’re mostly newbies, nobody who knows who he is. That makes committing fraud much easier.</p>
<p>He passes over his fake ID and asks for any outstanding tickets. The clerk smiles helpfully but falters when she sees the name Moriyama.</p>
<p>“I’m a distant cousin on my father’s side,” explains Neil, making a face as if he’s irritated by the confusion. “Not one of the famous ones, sorry.”</p>
<p>She smiles apologetically and heads to get his ticket, handing it over without a second glance.</p>
<p>Neil doesn’t look at it until later when he’s alone. It’s a photo from a red light camera, catching Jean speeding through an intersection (Perimeter Road and Division Street; what the hell was Jean doing in that part of town?) while looking over his shoulder, as if he was being followed. The time stamp is 4:32 pm.</p>
<p>It seems like time stops passing. Before Neil even realizes what he’s doing, he’s up and in his dad’s office, opening the safe and retrieving Jean’s murder file. He flips through the papers impatiently until he gets to the one he’s looking for, the autopsy report. Time of death: between 2 and 2:30 pm.</p>
<p>It’s like his lungs are full of frozen glass shards. The photo proves Jean was alive a full two hours after his supposed time of death. This changes everything. No one’s alibis are valid, for one thing.</p>
<p>He tips his head back against the wall and focuses on breathing steadily. His dad was right. Something doesn’t add up.</p>
<p>Jean was killed more than two hours after his official time of death; someone fudged the timeline. That means someone is covering up their involvement in his murder. And Neil’s not going to rest until he finds out who and why.</p>
<hr/>
<p>On Monday at lunch, Neil watches dispassionately as Allison is repeatedly snubbed and rebuffed among her former 09er friends. She came forward over the weekend, admitting to stealing the credit card. As predicted, no charges were filed against her when Seth was released; however, the news of her and Seth’s relationship spread like wildfire through the student body this morning. The retribution against her is swift as everyone sides with Kevin. No one dares speak out against a Moriyama in Palmetto.</p>
<p>Allison holds her head up high and heads to sit with the PCHers. There’s a tense moment when it looks like Seth might ignore her, but he shrugs and moves over, giving her a place to sit beside him and slinging an arm around her when she does. She glances around the lunch area shrewdly, her eyes narrow, as if cataloguing everyone against whom she needs to avenge herself.</p>
<p>Neil feels uncomfortably like he’s looking at a kindred spirit. They’re a lot alike. They’re the type of people who don’t stay down. Like cockroaches, they can get swatted and irradiated but they just come back stronger, like mutated monsters to get their revenge. And yes, that metaphor got away from him somewhat, but the point still stands.</p>
<p>Neil isn’t going to take his exile lying down either. He’s going to find out who killed Jean and then get retribution from everyone who doubted him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter: referenced murder, referenced suicide</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil’s sitting in his pyjamas, listlessly eating a breakfast of Cheerios and staring blankly at the television when his dad gets home. He’s been gone for three days, chasing down a bail jumper in Nevada. He’s rumpled and looks like he slept in his clothes.</p>
<p>“Success?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“Success,” he confirms, yawning. “What are you doing up so early?”</p>
<p>“I told Matt I’d help him out with something before classes start,” explains Neil.</p>
<p>His dad’s face softens. “I’m glad you have a friend again.”</p>
<p>Neil mimes vomiting.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, no sentimentality allowed,” says his dad, coming over to ruffle his hair. “Still. I’m relieved school’s been better for you this year.”</p>
<p>“There are all new scandals for everyone to focus on.” Between Riko Moriyama abruptly being transferred to military school in New Mexico during his suspension and Allison Reynolds secretly dating a biker, it’s already been a gossip-heavy September.</p>
<p>His dad stretches, before pausing and cocking his head. “Neil,” he says. “Did you let the dog on the furniture?”</p>
<p>Neil glances to where Backup is spread lengthwise across their couch, taking up the whole thing. He’s watching Neil eat attentively. “Nope.”</p>
<p>His dad rolls his eyes. “Good to know.”</p>
<p>“I already took him out for his W-A-L-K,” spells Neil. Backup’s ears perk up anyway. Damn bastard is too good at spelling. “But once you wake up from your nap, can you let him out again?”</p>
<p>“Sure thing,” says his dad, heading to the fridge. “Anything else?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I got the money shot for the Barnaby case,” says Neil, indicating an envelope on the counter containing a glossy 8 by 10 photo. “He’s definitely got a mistress.”</p>
<p>“Nice,” says his dad approvingly. “Thank you. Did you finish all your homework?”</p>
<p>Neil doesn’t answer, his attention caught by the television. He has it tuned to the local morning show, more for background noise than any interest in municipal affairs. But right now a mugshot is splashed across the screen—a mugshot he’s very familiar with. He cranks up the volume.</p>
<p>“—murder of Jean Moriyama. DiMaccio confessed to the crime and pled guilty at trial. He has now fired his public attorney and refused to launch an appeal against his life sentence.”</p>
<p>The scene switches; it’s old footage now, of when Patrick DiMaccio was initially apprehended. Sheriff Browning triumphantly holds up two evidence bags containing Jean’s belongings. They were found in DiMaccio’s home; the theory being he took them as trophies after breaking into the Moriyama mansion and killing Jean. The bag closest to the screen holds Jean’s favourite red Converse; Neil averts his gaze.</p>
<p>His dad picks up the remote and clicks off the television, his expression unreadable. “Sorry, kid,” he says quietly.</p>
<p>He knows how much Neil wants answers. He’d been devastated during the summer when DiMaccio’s expedited trial had begun and ended with his guilty plea. No evidence was presented and no arguments were made. No motive or details were revealed. All he knows is what the news has reported: that Patrick DiMaccio was a disgruntled former employee of DayMo Software who broke into Tetsuji’s house to rob it, only to be disturbed by Jean, who he killed to cover his tracks.</p>
<p>Neil blinks rapidly to stave off the threatening tears and glares at the carpet. “I guess he really did it. Why else would he be willing to spend the rest of his life in prison?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” asks Neil, stapling yet another <em>WILDS FOR PRESIDENT</em> poster on a classroom bulletin board.</p>
<p>“Because we’re friends,” answers Matt. “Remember? Just last week you were going on about how friends do favours.”</p>
<p>“I meant that <em>you</em> do favours for <em>me</em>,” says Neil. “There was nothing in there about me getting up at the buttcrack of dawn to help you hang posters for a girl you’re trying to impress.”</p>
<p>“You’re my wingman,” shrugs Matt. “Them’s the breaks.”</p>
<p>“So Dan Wilds, huh?” asks Neil, surveying one of the posters thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“Neil, she’s amazing,” enthuses Matt. “Have you seen her? She’s so smart and confident and outspoken and pretty and—”</p>
<p>“Got it,” Neil cuts him off. “You’ve got a pathetic crush.”</p>
<p>“You think I’ve got a chance?”</p>
<p>“I only know her by reputation, but I would say no,” replies Neil, grinning evilly. “She’s way too awesome for the likes of you.”</p>
<p>“I’m awesome!” argues Matt.</p>
<p>“Last Friday night did you: a) fly your model airplane at the beach, b) watch an old movie with your mom, or c) go to a bitchin’ party?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Matt grumbles. “Both A and B,” he replies sullenly. “But I really like <em>Some Like It Hot</em>!”</p>
<p>“That argument does nothing to change my mind.”</p>
<p>The two of them spend the next half hour squabbling about Matt’s coolness factor and whether or not Neil is qualified to judge it, based on his use of the word bitchin’ and his own Friday night activities of hanging out with his dog while doing his homework.</p>
<p>“Hey, guys, thanks,” says Dan as they return their leftover posters to her head campaign office (read: the government classroom).</p>
<p>“Is there anything else we can do?” asks Matt, resembling an excited puppy. His eyes have gone sincere and would be heart-shaped if he was a cartoon.</p>
<p>“Spread the word, I guess,” replies Dan. “I have some fliers to hand out. And vote for me, of course!”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” says Neil gravely. “I’m not familiar with your platform. I don’t know if it’s something I can support.”</p>
<p>Matt elbows him in the ribs but Dan only smiles. “Well, I have an sixty-three point plan for improving student life at Palmetto High and increasing engagement, but I don’t think you want to read it.”</p>
<p>“You think right.”</p>
<p>“My main campaign point is that I’m going to abolish Paw Points.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” says Neil, unable to help the self-satisfied smile that steals over his face. “That’s going to piss off a lot of people who I don’t like. You’ve got my vote.”</p>
<p>“Paw Points?” asks Matt, at a loss.</p>
<p>“Oh, I forget sometimes how new you are,” sighs Neil. “Paw Points are awarded to people who show school spirit”—he drawls the words as sarcastically as possible—“to give them certain privileges. I mean, you must have noticed that your choices for lunch are between brown bagging it and choking down whatever the cafeteria is masquerading as food while the 09ers order in whatever they want?”</p>
<p>“I thought that had to do with money,” says Matt.</p>
<p>“It does,” says Dan harshly. “There aren’t actually that many ways to receive Paw Points: only varsity athletes and students who participate in school government get them. Of course, they’re also given out to students whose parents have donated money to the school.”</p>
<p>“Which is how Andrew Spear has more Paw Points than anyone,” says Neil dryly. “I don’t know how you didn’t guess. The guy’s brimming with school spirit.”</p>
<p>“Anyway, the class president has always been a resume-packing rich kid,” claims Dan, “but the 09ers are the minority here!”</p>
<p>“The one percent?” asks Neil slyly.</p>
<p>“More like thirty, but still. We outnumber them. If I can drum up enough anti-09er support, I should have no trouble getting the position. And then I can start changing things around here.”</p>
<p>“There should be more lunch options in the caf,” suggests Neil. “I, for one, am all for eating the rich.”</p>
<p>Dan laughs. “I’m not sure 09er casserole is something I can achieve, but I’ll keep it in mind.”</p>
<p>“Who’s running against you?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“There’s five candidates, I think?” says Dan. “Campaign videos are going to be shown during homeroom today. Most of them are joke candidates, and I’m not sure who the 09er candidate is. If Andrew Spear wasn’t an actual psychopath he’d be the most likely choice, but I can’t see him putting the effort into running. It was going to be Riko Moriyama before he got shipped off to military school.”</p>
<p>“And we all miss him so much. Can you imagine the resulting tantrum he would have had if he lost what’s basically a glorified popularity contest?” chuckles Neil.</p>
<p>“He’d go full-on Draco Malfoy,” agrees Dan. “‘My father will hear about this!’”</p>
<p>Matt laughs jovially and gives Neil a significant look. “Oh, uh,” says Neil, mind completely blanking on how to be a proper wingman. “Lunch?” he blurts. “Do you want to sit with us and bask in the last day that the 09ers can order in food?”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, I have to campaign…” says Dan apologetically.</p>
<p>“No problem, Matt can help you,” suggests Neil quickly. “He’s great at talking people up. He says such nice things about me, even though everyone knows I’m an asshole.”</p>
<p>“Who said you’re an asshole?” asks Matt automatically. “I’ll fight them.”</p>
<p>Neil makes TV presenter hands in Matt’s direction. “See?”</p>
<p>Dan actually blushes and looks down, tucking her braids behind her ear. “Well, I could use the support,” she admits.</p>
<p>“Great,” enthuses Matt. “I can meet you here at the beginning of lunch period?”</p>
<p>“Sounds good,” Dan smiles. “See you then.”</p>
<p>Matt waits until she’s gone before performing a very undignified fist pump.</p>
<p>“You owe me,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll need me to steal something from the admin office before too long.”</p>
<p>Neil pretends to swoon. “You <em>do</em> know the way to a guy’s heart.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Palmetto High has its own closed-circuit news network, which airs each morning during first period. There are televisions in every classroom. Sometimes it’s very obvious how wealthy the alumni are. Neil barely pays attention to the class president campaign videos. Dan was right; one of the kids running is advocating for mandatory school-wide Madden tournaments and another suggests a class on yachting. The third candidate is actually not a joke, but she’s an underclassman and class presidents are almost always seniors. Dan’s video plays fourth: she’s articulate and inflammatory, clearly competent and driven. She’d probably be popular among the 09ers if she weren’t a) advocating to reduce their privileges, and b) a black woman.</p>
<p>“She can’t actually do that,” says Allison snidely. She looks around for support, before remembering that no one in the class is currently speaking to her.</p>
<p>“I hate to agree with Burglar Barbie over there, but there’s no way I am eating anything cooked by Lunchlady Doris,” says Andrew. He doesn’t look at anyone, too busy picking at the scabs on his knuckles.</p>
<p>“Get ready for the delights of Mystery Meat,” says Neil. “On Thursdays your best bet is stale candy from the vending machines.”</p>
<p>Andrew gives him a jackal’s grin. The skin around his right eye is slightly discoloured, a days-old bruise. Neil wonders if he’s been fighting again, and if he has, if Kevin knows. He’s never really understood Andrew and Kevin’s friendship because they spend most of their time acting like they hate each other, but he also knows they close ranks against outside threats and are both absurdly protective of each other in their own way (Kevin’s way is mostly pedantic nagging; Andrew’s is violence).</p>
<p>Patriotic trumpets sound from the screen as the fifth and final video begins. “America stands for freedom,” intones an overly-serious male voice. “The freedom to stand up and do what’s right. The freedom to work hard and get the job done.”</p>
<p>Neil turns back to the screen with horror, struck dumb when he sees a still picture of Kevin superimposed in front of a waving American flag. The picture changes to one of Kevin playing lacrosse, then to one of him giving a presentation of some sort. The graphics are slicker than any of the previous videos, this one looking professionally made. Probably by the DayMo Software marketing team.</p>
<p>“Kevin Day-Moriyama also stands for freedom. A vote for him is a vote for America.” The video ends with a placard that reads, KEVIN FOR PRESIDENT.</p>
<p>“Wow,” says Neil, overcoming his shocked silence. He glances at Kevin, who is staring at the now-dark screen with obvious dismay, while Andrew laughs and flicks him with his pen.</p>
<p>Kevin distractedly brushes Andrew off. “I said I didn’t want to run,” he practically hisses.</p>
<p>Andrew shrugs, supremely disinterested in Kevin’s irritation. “Guess your father had his own ideas.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil heads to his dad’s office after school, even though his dad’s still sleeping off his trip and didn’t open it that day. It’s a good, distractionless place to get his homework done and the internet connection is faster than what they have at home. Plus, the safe with the Jean Moriyama murder file is there.</p>
<p>He flips through it idly, looking for something to jump out at him. If Jean’s time of death is wrong, provided alibis aren’t valid anymore. He starts by checking those of Jean’s immediate family.</p>
<p>Kevin was playing lacrosse during Jean’s official time of death, vouched for by everyone attending. But the game ended just after four and Kevin claimed he got home around five (although, Neil notes that Kevin didn’t actually answer any of the sheriff’s questions. His father, Tetsuji, was the one to account for his whereabouts—Neil remembers Kevin’s strange fugue when he saw him the day of Jean’s murder; he wasn’t in a state to be talking to anyone). The photo from the red light camera shows Jean was alive and in his car at 4:30, so that means he died either just before Kevin got home or after he was there. Neil tries to picture it—some kind of argument between them that escalated, perhaps, with Kevin lashing out angrily and fatally.</p>
<p>He can’t wrap his mind around it. Jean and Kevin were close. They didn’t always like each other and they had their fair share of spats, but they always loved each other. They weren’t biologically related but they’d been step-brothers for as long as either of them could remember.</p>
<p>Jean’s biological parents were Tetsuji and his first wife, Aline Moreau. From what Neil knows, she’d abandoned Jean when he was only a couple weeks old, around the time that Tetsuji and Kayleigh Day were moving from being business partners to being more. Kevin’s father was a mystery, but wasn’t Tetsuji—although Kevin was fairly ethnically ambiguous, he was clearly not half-Japanese like Jean. Kayleigh and Tetsuji had married when the boys were two, and Kayleigh and Kevin had changed their last names to Day-Moriyama. The family was happy, or least appeared to be so, until Kayleigh shockingly committed suicide due to undiagnosed depression when Kevin and Jean were ten.</p>
<p>Neil remembers how horrible the days following her death were; he was already friends with Jean, but barely knew Kevin. Kevin had wandered from room to room like a lost, grey ghost, completely trapped in his grief. The memory gives Neil pause. Kevin had needed Jean to kickstart him back into living after his mother died, with his trademark rude observations and caustic truths. Maybe that’s what Kevin needs now to snap him out of his apathy? Someone to point out the world was still turning?</p>
<p>He sets Kevin’s alibi aside and picks up Tetsuji’s. He and his wife had provided each other’s alibis: they’d been together in the Palmetto Grand Hotel, having a little husband-and-wife alone time away from their two teenage sons. Neil shudders at the thought. Tetsuji had married his secretary the summer before last, much to both Kevin and Jean’s dismay. Asuka was only twenty-four and was clearly more interested in Tetsuji’s money than Tetsuji himself.</p>
<p>The Moriyamas’ statement says they arrived home a little after Kevin, about ten past five. Kevin was in the shower when they came home and Tetsuji called for Jean, who had planned on being home alone all day. He found him out by the pool, crumpled in a pool of his own blood. His shouts had gotten Asuka’s attention and she had called the sheriff.</p>
<p>That’s the story, anyway, but Neil now knows it’s false. Did one of the Moriyamas kill him and cover it up? He can’t believe Kevin would go along with it, especially if Asuka was the culprit, but then again Kevin’s always deferred to his father’s wishes, no matter how much he doesn’t want to (case in point: the school election). Neil also can’t think of a motive except maybe it was an argument that got out of hand. Asuka may have wanted her new husband’s sons out of her way, but Neil doesn’t think she’s strong enough to kill Jean by cracking him over the head with an ashtray (the murder weapon was found in the pool, the chlorine destroying any chance of trace evidence).</p>
<p>He sighs and flips through the file some more, pausing at one of the crime scene photos. It’s not one of the gory ones that show the body (Neil’s been avoiding looking at those; he saw it in real life, he doesn’t need to also see pictures), but one that the crime scene techs took of Jean’s room after the murder. In the corner, under his desk, are a telltale pair of red Converse.</p>
<p>Neil blinks and rises to his feet, hurrying over to the drawer where his father keeps his joke magnifying glass and deerstalker hat. Neil got them for him as a gift when he announced he was going to be a private detective after he was fired as county sheriff. Despite being a joke, the magnifying glass is real and he uses it to look more closely at the crime scene photo. Yes, those are Jean’s shoes. There’s a badge on one of them and a tear that was badly sewn up with dark thread by Jean himself because he couldn’t bear to make himself throw them away.</p>
<p>They are the shoes that were later found among Patrick DiMaccio’s things, Neil’s sure of it. He saw video of them on the news that morning. If they were still at the Moriyamas’ house following the murder, that means DiMaccio didn’t take them as a trophy. They were planted at his place later.</p>
<p>Neil’s hands shake as he scans the crime scene photo onto his laptop and then carefully puts the murder file back in order. He makes sure it’s exactly the same as it was when he took it out; if his father knew he was looking into it, he’d surely change the combination to the safe.</p>
<p>So. It looks like Patrick DiMaccio is being framed. Neil just has to get the evidence that proves it, and he knows exactly how he’s going to do that.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next day at school the vote for class president occurs during second period. Marissa Sinclair arrives in Neil’s AP math class to hand over the stack of scantron forms and the list of candidates to his teacher. She sneers at Neil on her way past. He’s confused, since he can’t remember ever interacting with her before in his life; however, he’s noticed that she’s been worming her way into Allison’s place at Kevin’s lunch table in the past week since Allison’s fall from grace. She probably just despises him in solidarity with Kevin.</p>
<p>The teacher stands up and writes the list of candidates on the blackboard. A) Kevin Day, B) Danielle Wilds, C) Nobody important. Neil colours in the B bubble on his scantron and feels smug. Support for Dan’s plan to abolish Paw Points has been swift and loud. She’s going to get voted as president on the swell of support and Neil’s looking forward to seeing the 09ers be inconvenienced for once. He’s not stupid enough to assume none of them will retaliate, but he trusts Dan can hold her own.</p>
<p>He’s happy to find Dan sitting with Matt at their usual lunch table, laughing and joking when he arrives. Matt’s like a barnacle; Neil tried to blow him off more than once but he kept sticking to him. He assumes Matt’s persistence and general affability will be impossible for Dan to resist, long term. Especially since Neil notices her checking him out when he’s not looking.</p>
<p>“Why, hello, Ms. Soon-to-be-president,” he says, plonking his tray down on the table. None of the choices were appetizing today, and he’s stuck with a so-called Sloppy Joe: a piece of stale wonder bread topped with what he is pretty sure was lasagne two days ago.</p>
<p>“We don’t know I won,” says Dan, although she’s smiling brightly.</p>
<p>“But you totally did, right?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“Of course she did!” jumps in Matt. “Who wouldn’t vote for such a winner?”</p>
<p>Dan smiles slyly. “Yeah, I totally did,” she says. She eyes Neil’s food. “Soon it will be Sloppy Leftover-Lasagne for all!”</p>
<p>“You are a kind and benevolent ruler,” says Neil. “Remember us peons when you ascend to supreme power.”</p>
<p>About halfway through their lunch period an announcement somehow manages to quiet down the courtyard. “Attention students,” comes Vice Principal Whittier’s pedantic voice. “The results of the school council president election are as follows: The winner, with more than seventy percent of the vote, is Kevin Day-Moriyama.”</p>
<p>Dan’s face falls instantly.</p>
<p>“What?” shouts Matt, jumping to his feet in outrage. He isn’t the only one. More than one student is reacting to the results in disbelief and anger as the 09ers over at Kevin’s table celebrate.</p>
<p>“Well,” says Dan shakily. “We all know the world isn’t fair.”</p>
<p>“But school council elections are supposed to be,” says Neil. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil corners Kevin in journalism class the next morning. No sooner than he gets within a foot of him, Andrew is suddenly at his shoulder. Apparently Neil is someone to protect Kevin from these days.</p>
<p>“Did your daddy steal the election for you?” asks Neil, ignoring Andrew’s presence. “He did everything else for you, after all.”</p>
<p>“Oh, is this somehow Kevin’s doing, too?” interjects Andrew. “Last week he was responsible for stealing from his own family and this week he’s fixing elections?” He tsks in mock concern and asks Kevin, “Where <em>do</em> you get the time to be responsible for all of the evil in Neil’s life? Next, he’ll accuse you of killing your own brother.”</p>
<p>Both Kevin and Neil inhale sharply.</p>
<p>Andrew’s eyes are gleaming, his lips pulled up in a parody of a smile. “I want to crack open your head,” he tells Neil, “to see all the nonsense that spills out.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Spear,” announces Ms. Murphy, the journalism teacher. “I believe you’re supposed to be proofreading articles, not acting as Mr. Day-Moriyama’s gatekeeper. Have a seat. Mr. Wymack, you too.”</p>
<p>Neil heads to his computer station; surprisingly, Kevin follows in his wake.</p>
<p>“I didn’t do anything to the election,” he says. “I didn’t even want to run.”</p>
<p>“There’s no way you had enough support to win by that big a margin,” replies Neil. “<em>Someone</em> did something to ensure your victory.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t me.”</p>
<p>“So that absolves you of all blame, then?” asks Neil snidely. “You didn’t know, so it doesn’t involve you. Inaction is still a choice; you’re choosing to do nothing.”</p>
<p>Kevin doesn’t respond.</p>
<p>“Although, I guess that’s your new status quo, isn’t it? Standing idly by while life happens around you.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“It’s—everything! Do you not even see it?”</p>
<p>Kevin looks vaguely puzzled.</p>
<p>“You didn’t care that your girlfriend was cheating on you,” says Neil. “You’ve been acting like a zombie for months. Do you really think Jean would want you to act like this?”</p>
<p>“Stop it,” says Kevin woodenly.</p>
<p>“He might be dead, but you’re not,” retorts Neil.</p>
<p>“Shut up.” Kevin’s temper is starting to rise to match Neil’s.</p>
<p>“Don’t you care about anything?” asks Neil hotly, pent-up frustration getting the better of him. “You didn’t even bother to give your own statement to the sheriff about what happened the afternoon he was murdered!”</p>
<p>“Because I don’t remember!” shouts Kevin, startling the whole class into silence.</p>
<p>“Mr. Day-Moriyama!” chides Ms. Murphy. “I won’t give you another warning.”</p>
<p>Neil drags Kevin down to sit at a desk. “What?” he hisses.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember,” says Kevin numbly. “I’ve blocked the whole day out of my memory; grief, according to the therapist my dad forced me to see.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Neil blankly, unsure of what to do with that information. He wants to press for more information, but he can see from Kevin’s face that he’s ten seconds away from shutting down again. He grasps for something else to shock him. “Did you know Andrew’s fighting again?” he demands.</p>
<p>The last time Andrew had been getting into fights had been shortly after Kevin and Neil had gotten together. Kevin had been livid; Andrew had a bad habit of paying homeless men to fight him when he was stressed, coming away bruised and bloody and triumphant. There had been endless lectures from Kevin about how Andrew should value himself more. Neil isn’t sure how, but that seemed to work, at least for a time.</p>
<p>“No,” says Kevin, frowning. “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“I spend the majority of my time working for a PI,” sighs Neil. “I notice things.”</p>
<p>“I guess I’ll talk with Renee.”</p>
<p>“Why Renee?” asks Neil. He has no idea why Jean’s ex-girlfriend would care about Andrew’s habits.</p>
<p>“She’s dating Andrew now, didn’t you hear?”</p>
<p>Neil feels caught off guard. He doesn’t like the idea of Andrew and Renee—probably because he still thinks of Renee as Jean’s. Her and Andrew together just seem wrong.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Kevin, catching his expression, “I find it weird, too.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>It turns out to be very easy to examine the election results; Neil suggests to Ms. Murphy that he write an article about the election and convinces her that as a neutral third party journalist he should double check the results so he can assure the student body of their legitimacy. Before long, he finds himself with Matt and Mr. Whittier, running the election ballots through the scantron machine.</p>
<p>“And?” asks Matt, hopefully.</p>
<p>“Kevin still wins with 734 votes,” says Neil. They’ve counted three times. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I can see him winning due to people not bothering to vote, but there’s no way he’s this popular.”</p>
<p>“As you can see, there is no nefarious conspiracy,” says Mr. Whittier, sounding incredibly bored. He’s been sitting quietly doing paperwork until now. “Are you satisfied?”</p>
<p>“Hey,” says Neil, noticing something weird about the scantron sheet he’s about to feed into the machine. “Student 403254. What are you doing voting for Kevin?”</p>
<p>“For what possible reason do you have my student number memorized?” asks Matt, before realizing the rest of what Neil said and grabbing the sheet from his hands. “No way. There’s no way I voted for Kevin.”</p>
<p>“It’s right there,” says Neil, gesturing. “Bubble A completely filled in.”</p>
<p>“But A was Dan,” protests Matt.</p>
<p>Neil holds up the election key, which clearly states that Kevin was candidate A.</p>
<p>“But I’m sure it was Dan,” says Matt. “My teacher wrote it out on the board: Dan was A and Kevin was B.”</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier is looking slightly interested now. “What class?” he asks.</p>
<p>“I had art with Mrs. Donaldson second period,” answers Matt.</p>
<p>“So either she mixed up the first two candidates, or the wrong election key was given to her,” muses Neil. “I was in an AP class, which is full of overachieving 09ers.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, my art class not so much,” says Matt. “I’ve heard Allison Reynolds call it Finger Painting for Underachieving High Schoolers.”</p>
<p>Neil turns to Mr. Whittier. “How were the ballot instructions created?”</p>
<p>“I had a student aide make them and pass them out,” he replies.</p>
<p>“Which student aide?”</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier sighs. “Marissa Sinclair.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you mean the girl who’s got a crush on Kevin that’s visible from the moon?” asks Neil incredulously. “And you don’t think it’s possible she stole the election for him?”</p>
<p>Matt elbows him. “You sound catty,” he says.</p>
<p>Neil schools his face. “Seems like the mystery is solved.”</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier sighs again. “I suppose this calls for another vote.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>After the re-vote, which Dan wins decisively, Neil is present at the first school council meeting to take a picture to complete his story for the newspaper. Dan stands fearlessly in front of the rest of the school council, notably all 09er students. She doesn’t let the hostility phase her.</p>
<p>“So,” she says. “Paw Points.”</p>
<p>“You can’t take them away,” argues a girl. “We’ll impeach you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s not a thing for school council presidents,” says Dan dryly. “But good news. I’ve decided to revisit my idea about that.”</p>
<p>Neil looks up sharply. He’s been looking forward to Dan making 09ers cry but she’s already caving?</p>
<p>“Here’s my offer,” says Dan. “Paw Point will be retroactively awarded to students who have actually shown school spirit: like students in the band, or those who perform well in art or auto shop or other non-academic classes.”</p>
<p>“But—” says the same girl from before.</p>
<p>“Either you share your privilege or you lose it,” Dan cuts her off. “It’s up to you.”</p>
<p>“Smart,” Neil tells her as the meeting is wrapping up. “They’re not completely happy but they think you’re reasonable and won’t put up as much resistance to your ideas. Was this your plan all along?”</p>
<p>Dan smiles. “I want to say yes and blow your mind with my foresight, but it actually wasn’t. Nah, after the re-vote Kevin came to congratulate me on winning. It was his idea.”</p>
<p>“Really?” stutters Neil. “Kevin’s?”</p>
<p>Dan shrugs. “Guess it was something he considered doing when it looked like he was going to be president.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” is all Neil can think to say.</p>
<hr/>
<p>His dad is reheating leftovers for dinner when Neil gets home from Dan’s victory party he reluctantly accompanied Matt to.</p>
<p>“Package came for you today,” he says, gesturing to a large padded envelope with the local news station’s return address.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” says Neil, taking it gingerly. It wasn’t hard to call the station and get them to send him a copy of the news story they ran earlier in the week about Patrick DiMaccio firing his attorney. All he had to do was tell them he was a journalism student and he needed it for a project.</p>
<p>His dad watches him expectantly. Neil could use the same lie on him, but he’s never liked lying to his dad. He’s never been able to completely shake the conviction that his dad will one day throw him out if he betrays his trust or makes him angry enough.</p>
<p>“Don’t be mad,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“That’s a promising start,” grumbles his dad, turning off the stove and giving Neil his full attention.</p>
<p>“I just… I noticed something strange and I had to look into it.” Neil rushes over to their old VCR and plays the tape.</p>
<p>“Neil,” his dad sighs when he sees what is playing.</p>
<p>“Wait for it,” says Neil, pausing when it shows Browning proudly holding up the evidence bag with the red Converse. He was right; the badge and the mend are visible on the shoes.</p>
<p>“We knew he took a trophy,” starts his dad gently.</p>
<p>“No, that’s not it,” says Neil, now rifling through his bag for his scanned copy of the picture from the evidence file. He’d used the photo editing software in journalism class to zoom in on Jean’s shoes and printed off the results. “Look,” he says pushing the picture at his dad. “Same shoes.”</p>
<p>His dad looks from the picture to the television and back again. “They look the same,” he allows. “Where did you get this picture?”</p>
<p>“It was taken in Jean’s room <em>after</em> his murder,” says Neil, not wanting to get into the specifics of how he got it from his dad’s supposedly secure safe. “Dad, unless DiMaccio broke <em>back</em> into the Moriyama mansion, he didn’t take those shoes with him. He must have gotten them sometime later.”</p>
<p>His dad looks from the photograph to the paused television again and groans, collapsing on their couch and tipping his head back. He pinches the bridge of his nose.</p>
<p>“Why would they be at his house unless he’s being framed?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Why would he confess if he didn’t do it?”</p>
<p>“I can make a guess, kid, but it’ll be nothing but speculation,” his dad says, giving him a shrewd look. “The only person who can answer that question is Patrick DiMaccio himself.”</p>
<p>It sounds like dissuasion, but it sparks an idea in Neil’s brain. If Patrick DiMaccio is the only one who can answer his questions, then it’s time for him to talk to Patrick DiMaccio.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: minor injury, blood, reference to murder, reference to slut shaming</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know,” says Neil thoughtfully as he watches dark clouds gather on the horizon, “I must really like you.”</p><p>“Can you not hit on me when I’m in the middle of wooing Dan?” replies Matt.</p><p>Neil sputters. “I’m not—I don’t—That’s—”</p><p>“Don’t worry, bud, I know I’m irresistible,” says Matt with a shit-eating grin.</p><p>“Ha ha.”</p><p>“Anyway, I got you <em>three</em> files in the last two weeks and helped you make a couple hundred bucks. This is the least you owe me.”</p><p>It’s true. After Dan’s win as class president a few weeks previously, Neil had unexpectedly gained a reputation as someone who could get to the bottom of things. More than one of his classmates had approached him since then.</p><p>The first had caught Neil off guard. It was a scrawny little freshman (irritatingly still taller than Neil) who hovered indecisively next to his and Matt’s lunch table. “I hear you help people?” he asked nervously.</p><p>“I do favours for friends,” Neil replied dismissively.</p><p>“I can pay,” said the kid.</p><p>“Well, sit down, friend,” grinned Neil.</p><p>Many of the requests were straightforward—kids wanting dirt on their parents. Neil can easily look up past misdemeanours and other embarrassing information on people using the PI database he has access to due to working with his father. Some of the other cases involve Matt “borrowing” information from the admin office. Neil has to admit that Matt being an office aide has helped him immensely so far.</p><p>“Still,” he protests, “a Little League game? I don’t know anything about baseball.” They’re at the top of spectator bleachers, keeping far away from the parents of the minor league baseball players.</p><p>“This is the first time the Ninja Turtles have made it to the playoffs, and Dan’s their assistant coach,” explains Matt, for the umpteenth time. “Of course I have to be here to celebrate her milestone. You never played?”</p><p>“Only soccer and lacrosse,” says Neil. “Despite my dad’s best efforts, I have remained ignorant of anything baseball-related.”</p><p>“Soccer and lacrosse?” echoes Matt. “Do you play for the school teams?”</p><p>“I used to,” answers Neil. “Last fall I busted up my knee and couldn’t play for a couple months. I was going to join again in the spring, but…” he trails off with a shrug. “It didn’t seem that important anymore after Jean died. Besides, my dad lost his job by then and needed my help with his business, so I didn’t have much time for extracurriculars.”</p><p>Matt hums. “Well, no worries. I’m going to teach you to love baseball if it kills me.”</p><p>Neil sighs in resignation as the opposing team takes the field. Their silvery-grey uniform shirts are much nicer than the lime green of Dan’s team.</p><p>“The Spears?” asks Matt, reading the logo splashed across their chests. “As in…?”</p><p>“Yeah, they sponsor a lot of community activities,” says Neil. “This is probably one of Drake’s ventures. From what I know about him, he’s really into mentoring and coaching at-risk youth.”</p><p>“Knowing Andrew, that’s really hard to picture.”</p><p>Neil snorts. “That’s actually how Andrew got adopted by the Spears in the first place. He was in foster care in LA and Drake ended up as his Big Brother. Apparently he and Andrew hit it off and Drake’s parents ended up adopting him.”</p><p>“Lucky,” whistles Matt.</p><p>“That’s how he and Aaron found each other, too; Aaron saw a picture of Andrew in a gossip magazine. Of course, Andrew went to juvie right afterwards…”</p><p>“What?” chokes Matt. “I haven’t heard that story.”</p><p>“The Spears hushed it up, but basically Andrew was really against meeting Aaron. His parents thought it might be a good idea to move the whole family here to Palmetto but before they could, Andrew got arrested for arson and was sent to a facility near LA. He got out the summer before sophomore year and that’s when the Spears moved here; Drake had hit it big by that time, so he only visits infrequently.”</p><p>“How do you know all this?”</p><p>“We used to be friends, remember?” snarks Neil. “Andrew was one of my best friends in sophomore year.” He doesn’t mention that Andrew dropped him as a friend as soon as he found out that he was dating Kevin, way before Jean died.</p><p>“Have you ever met Drake?” asks Matt excitedly.</p><p>“A few times in passing, but Andrew doesn’t like introducing him to his friends. I think he’s jealous of his attention and doesn’t want to share it.”</p><p>“Speak of the devil,” says Matt, his attention farther along the field. Sure enough, Andrew is here for some reason, with Renee Walker.</p><p>Neil watches them, still in disbelief that they’re dating. They don’t seem to match well at all; Renee is the adopted daughter of a well-known local news anchor and is a giant goody two-shoes. She is devout in her faith, attending the Catholic church in the PCHer part of town, and is one of the few people at Palmetto High who Neil doesn’t think is a hypocrite. She and Jean had also been a strange pair, but at least Jean wasn’t a juvenile delinquent.</p><p>Renee catches sight of him and Matt and waves. She says something to Andrew and then climbs up the bleachers toward them, Andrew trailing her disinterestedly.</p><p>“Neil,” she says warmly, “hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”</p><p>“It is a strange place for a bunch of high schoolers,” he says.</p><p>She smiles and sits beside him. “Several of the boys in my Sunday School class play for the Spears. Their parents weren’t available to drive them to the game, so I volunteered.”</p><p>“Saint Renee, you’re too good to be true,” sighs Neil. “Did cartoon birds braid your hair this morning?” Her hair is an unnatural shade of white, almost glowing in its brightness, with pastel tips. It’s been braided into a crown around her head.</p><p>Her almond-shaped dark eyes dance with amusement. “I don’t know about that,” she demurs. “But I am glad to see you. I’ve been meaning to speak with you; my friend needs your help.”</p><p>“Sure, your friend,” says Neil sarcastically, but he’s mostly kidding. Renee is the type of person who people tell their secrets to. Not Neil personally; there’s always been something about her that makes him slightly wary.</p><p>“Yes, she’s having a problem and I think you may be able to help her.”</p><p>“Why don’t you tell me the problem and I’ll see what I can do?” offers Neil.</p><p>“Well, the thing is—” she cuts herself off. “Andrew!” she calls, glancing over Neil’s head. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Neil turns, just in time to see Andrew grin, salute, and then fling himself into a backflip off the side of the bleachers.</p><p>“Fuck,” he mutters, getting to his feet and rushing to the ground. He’s faster than Renee, he can hear her and Matt clattering after him down the aluminum steps of the bleachers. He rounds the side of the seats, exhaling in relief upon finding that Andrew hasn’t splatted himself like a pancake. He landed on a pile of gym mats, although he then slid off of them and hit his head on the pavement.</p><p>“Fuck,” says Neil again, hurrying to his side and dropping to his knees. He doesn’t reach out, remembering Andrew’s rigid personal boundaries. “Why’d you do that, you psycho?”</p><p>“Bored,” is all Andrew says, his voice slurred and his eyes unfocused.</p><p>Renee kneels beside them. “Can I look?” she asks kindly. She waits until Andrew’s nod to examine the wound that’s bleeding freely from the back of his head. “This needs stitches,” she announces. She looks around and bites her lip. “Neil, could you possibly…?”</p><p>“I can take him to the hospital,” offers Neil.</p><p>“Oh, thank you,” exhales Renee. “I can’t leave the children.”</p><p>“I’ll go with you,” offers Matt.</p><p>“No way,” says Neil. “I can handle it. And you’re here to support Dan, so do that.” He looks at Renee. “You’re going to have to act as wingman in my place,” he says seriously, getting to his feet and offering his hand to help Andrew up. “It is a sacred duty.”</p><p>“Alright,” agrees Renee, her eyes still worried as she watches Andrew struggle to his feet.</p><p>“And for the issue with your friend, come find me tomorrow at lunch,” says Neil, before ushering Andrew to his car. He grabs his first aid kit out of the trunk when they get there, wadding up some gauze to prevent Andrew from bleeding all over the passenger seat.</p><p>Andrew lets him dress the wound, then watches him as he drives to the hospital, still grinning vacantly.</p><p>“Having a good time?” asks Neil tersely.</p><p>“Oh, Neil, always,” laughs Andrew.</p><p>Neil considers dumping him and heading home, but his pesky morals insist that he stay with Andrew, at least until his parents arrive. They get escorted back to see a doctor right away as soon as Andrew is recognized as a Spear. Despite the preferential treatment, it still seems to take an eternity for a doctor to show up. Neil feels every second of painfully awkward silence, while Andrew hums to himself and tears the paper sheet covering the examination table into tiny pieces.</p><p>“You haven’t accused Kevin of any wrongdoing since the election,” Andrew pipes up after a seemingly infinite amount of interminable minutes. “Are you off your game? Has your epic revenge plan fizzled out so quickly?”</p><p>“You’re one of the few people who know I don’t want to hurt him,” huffs Neil.</p><p>“Yes, the Wymacks have never targeted the Day-Moriyama family,” says Andrew sarcastically.</p><p>Neil flushes in anger. “Tetsuji is a liar—”</p><p>Andrew laughs outright. “Calling his dad a murderer. I can see how you don’t want to hurt Kevin.”</p><p>“You don’t have to dress it up,” says Neil, “we both know you’ve wanted me far away from Kevin for a while now. What is it, you can’t stand to see him with someone inferior?”</p><p>Andrew blinks. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Don’t pretend you didn’t suddenly drop me as soon as Kevin and I got together,” says Neil heatedly. “I figured it was good old fashioned bigotry, but you’re still fine with Kevin and you stuck by Nicky. So, what, is it just that I’m poor? Or that either one is tolerable, but poor <em>and</em> gay is too much?”</p><p>“...You’re not gay.”</p><p>“Thanks for defining my own sexuality to me,” says Neil, crossing his arms.</p><p>Andrew’s quiet for several beats before he laughs again. “You’re very stupid for someone who’s so smart.”</p><p>“Great, and now you’re insulting me.”</p><p>“You don’t have to be here.”</p><p>“Did your head injury scramble your memory? I drove you here.”</p><p>“Why are you still here?”</p><p>Neil opens his mouth and then pauses. “You’re right,” he says. “Have fun waiting alone.” He stomps out into the hallway, unsure why he’s so annoyed. Andrew has always had the ability to get under his skin.</p><p>He pauses on his way out when he hears raised voices and Andrew’s name. He creeps towards the voices until he can make out what they’re saying—hey, he’s never claimed to not be nosy.</p><p>“Mrs. Spear,” a patient female voice is saying, “as I have told you before, it is my professional opinion that continuing to medicate Andrew in this way is detrimental to his health and wellbeing and may very well result in his death.”</p><p>“But Dr. Proust said—”</p><p>“I am Andrew’s psychiatrist. He has never even met with Dr. Proust.”</p><p>“Dr. Dobson, are you sure that you can’t prescribe <em>any</em> medication?” asks a man, presumably Andrew’s father. “I just want him to care about something and before he started taking this medication he was blank and emotionless.”</p><p>“I may one day recommend a mood stabilizer, but these pills he’s currently on are inducing a false sense of euphoria. He’s perpetually manic and it’s unsustainable.”</p><p>Mrs. Spear’s voice breaks in again. “But we can’t take him off them cold turkey.”</p><p>“Of course not,” says Dr. Dobson. “You’ll have to keep him home from school and we’ll wean him off of them gradually over the next few weeks. Anything else would be medically dangerous.”</p><p>Neil startles as someone grabs him from behind. He struggles and turns, only to find Andrew grinning at him.</p><p>“So nosy,” says Andrew. “Curiosity killed the cat you know.”</p><p>Neil shakes him off.</p><p>“So, what’s the verdict?” asks Andrew.</p><p>“You’re going to be weaned off your uppers,” says Neil.</p><p>Andrew’s face turns smugly satisfied. “Knew if I put myself in enough danger they’d let me off them. They can’t stand the thought of a news article exposing their adopted son’s self-harm. It’ll reflect badly on them as parents.”</p><p>“Or maybe they’re just worried about you?”</p><p>“They only took me in because Drake wanted a little brother,” says Andrew meanly. “And now I’m too old to be interesting to him, but they’re still stuck with me.” He grins again. “Go home, Little Kitty. That’s enough snooping for you today.”</p>
<hr/><p>Renee joins Neil along with Matt and Dan at lunch the next day. It appears she’s a much better wingman than he is based on the fact that Dan’s been openly flirting with Matt all day. She also apparently wasn’t lying when she said it was her friend with the problem, since Katelyn Herrera trails after her and takes a seat next to her.</p><p>“Did you hear anything from Andrew?” Neil asks Renee.</p><p>“He has a concussion,” she replies placidly. “He’s going to be home for the next few weeks.” He wonders if she knows the truth about his medication. “This is my friend, Katelyn,” she continues, indicating the girl next to her. “We go to the same church.”</p><p>Neil always forgets Katelyn isn’t actually an 09er and that she lives over in the PCHer side of town. She’s ingratiated herself well with the rich kids: she’s a cheerleader and she’s dating a guy whose dad owns an airline and is honest-to-God named Paris. If she were white, she’d blend in with them completely.</p><p>Katelyn looks at him imploringly. “Renee says you might be able to help me?”</p><p>“Depends on what your problem is,” replies Neil.</p><p>She glances at Dan and Matt self-consciously and then takes a deep breath. “It’s just, you know the purity test?”</p><p>“No,” says Neil at the exact same moment that Dan and Matt both say, “Yes.”</p><p>“What, seriously?” demands Matt. “I was talking to you about this last week!”</p><p>Neil shrugs. “I tune you out a lot.”</p><p>Matt grumbles something about gratitude while Dan chuckles. “It was sent out to everyone with a Palmetto High email account a couple weeks ago,” she explains. “It’s one of those magazine quizzes: you know, answer all these questions, about alcohol and drugs and sex, and it tells you how ‘pure’ a person you are? It’s horribly misogynistic and invasive.”</p><p>“You took it?” Neil asks Matt.</p><p>Matt looks guiltily at Dan and then nods. “Seemed interesting.”</p><p>“What did you score?”</p><p>Matt blushes. “Eighty eight.”</p><p>“Wow, you’re twelve percent badass,” teases Neil. “Maybe Dan will let you glimpse her bra strap and your score can go down a couple percentage points.” Matt kicks him under the table.</p><p>Neil suddenly remembers he has a client. “What’s the problem with the test?” he asks Katelyn.</p><p>“Well, on Monday another email was sent around, but this one offered to sell the results of anyone’s purity test for ten dollars,” says Katelyn.</p><p>“Ah,” says Neil in understanding, “that explains all the weird tension from the last couple days.”</p><p>“Right,” replies Katelyn. “My boyfriend bought my test results and he’s livid, accusing me of lying to him and cheating.”</p><p>“I don’t think I can do anything about that,” says Neil. “Maybe smack him on the head and hopes he forgets the last few days, but that’s not particularly reliable.”</p><p>Katelyn lets a ghost of a smile touch her lips. She’s drawn and looks exhausted; clearly this is weighing on her. “But that’s the thing. I didn’t fill out the test. I agree with Dan.”</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil. “So the results are fake? Is that true of everyone?”</p><p>“Not that I’ve heard,” says Katelyn. “People are mad about the results getting out, but no one’s complaining they’re not real.”</p><p>“Hmmm,” says Neil, not sure how to start looking into this. Maybe find out who maintains the school’s email server?</p><p>“I think Allison Reynolds’ results were also false,” pipes up Dan. “I know she’s been embracing her whole outcast persona lately, but I doubt she scored a seventeen on the test, which was what was spray painted on her locker yesterday.”</p><p>“Oh, and probably Thea Muldani’s, too,” adds Matt. “There were a couple guys harassing her in biology earlier in the week, calling her easy and asking for a ride.” His face twists in disgust. “I started to say something, but she basically eviscerated them with a couple well-chosen words.” He looks a little dreamy. “It was hot.”</p><p>Dan gives him a look.</p><p>“It doesn’t mean anything,” he rushes to assure her. “I just find women taking down harassers to be incredibly attractive.”</p><p>Dan raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“You’re still the hottest?” Matt tries.</p><p>“Okay,” says Neil. “That’s a start at least.” He turns to Katelyn. “Can you make a list of all the people who might have it out for you?” he asks her. “I’ll also talk to Allison and Thea and see if there’s anyone in common.”</p><p>“Thank you,” says Katelyn fervently. “Paris didn’t believe me when I told him I never took the test. He’s convinced I’ve been cheating on him.”</p><p>“Sounds like a winner,” says Neil dryly.</p><p>Katelyn flushes. “He’s not bad, just sensitive. Anyway, he’s not who I’m really worried about. If my parents catch a whiff of this, they’re going to lock me in my bedroom until I graduate college.”</p><p>“I’ll see what I can do,” Neil promises.</p>
<hr/><p>Neil decides to talk to Thea first. He doesn’t know her very well, but he knows <em>of</em> her. She moved to Palmetto late last school year to live with her dad, a retired baseball player. She’d grown up mostly in New York with her single mother and brought that classic take-no-shit attitude with her. He knows the rich, white boys have no idea what to do with a rich, biracial Black-Indonesian girl who has no interest in their pocketbooks and clearly thinks herself superior to them. Neil likes her—he’s terrified of her, but he likes her.</p><p>“Hey, Thea,” he calls, jogging a little to catch up with her sure stride. “I have a question about the purity—”</p><p>“Your mom,” she interrupts.</p><p>“I—what?”</p><p>“That’s my answer. You wanted to ask about something on the test, yes? About which famous person I did it doggy style with, or who I let raw me while I was hopped up on goofballs? The answer is: your mom.”</p><p>“Ooookay,” says Neil. “Actually, I was wondering if you know who posted the fake test in your name?”</p><p>That gets her to stop and wheel on him. “No. If I did, I’d punch them in the throat.”</p><p>“Seems reasonable,” says Neil agreeably. “Did you take the test?”</p><p>“No,” she says shortly. “It’s stupid and juvenile.”</p><p>“Right, okay. And do you know anyone who might have done this to hurt you or get back at you for something?”</p><p>She shrugs. “There’s a couple guys I turned down who took it badly. And I’ve been getting digs recently from the hopefuls.”</p><p>“Hopefuls?” asks Neil.</p><p>“You know, the girls who want nothing more than to be Mrs. Day-Moriyama.”</p><p>“Oh,” falters Neil. “Are you and Kevin—” he mercifully cuts himself off. It’s not his business and he doesn’t care. He ignores the voice in the back of his mind telling him that Thea’s a great match for Kevin—way better than anyone else he’s dated since they broke up. “Never mind. I’m looking into the fake purity tests as a favour to a friend,” he tells her. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else.”</p><p>She gives him a shrewd look and nods once, then she turns and leaves, dismissing him as if he’s nothing more than an irritating insect. Shit, she is never going to let Kevin boss her around, which is exactly Kevin’s type. Competent people who push back against him.</p><p>Neil shakes himself and tracks down Allison.</p><p>“Well, if it isn’t the Itty Bitty Avenger,” she jeers as he takes a seat next to her in study hall. Seth’s beside her and he snorts with good-natured amusement.</p><p>“I want to ask you about the purity tests,” says Neil.</p><p>Allison huffs in annoyance. “Listen, you false caped crusader, there’s nothing illegal about me selling purity test results to the greedy 09ers. You can take your complaints and shove them.”</p><p>That… isn’t what Neil is expecting. “You… are responsible for the purity tests?” he asks.</p><p>Allison pauses. “Yeeees? Isn’t that why you’re bothering me?”</p><p>“Why would you do that?”</p><p>“Well, thanks to <em>someone</em> my parents cut me off. I need cash.”</p><p>“And you’re selling secrets at ten bucks a pop… smart,” muses Neil. “Also, there’s no way that you committing credit card fraud was my fault.”</p><p>“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” says Allison.</p><p>“But, wait, if you’re responsible for the purity tests, then why did you post such a terrible score for yourself? Aren’t the slobbering masses harassing you?”</p><p>“My girl’s a slut!” says Seth happily. Allison jabs him in the ribs.</p><p>“I didn’t post that,” she says. “I didn’t take the test at all, since I was the one who sent it out and knew what was going to happen with the results.”</p><p>“So why didn’t you change your false results?” asks Neil, completely at sea.</p><p>“I can’t. I don’t actually get to see people’s individual answers; they’re sent to a read-only database. An individual account password is required to create the answers.”</p><p>“So only someone with access to your school account could have made the false test?” checks Neil.</p><p>“Yup,” says Allison, popping her gum.</p><p>“Did you share your password with anyone?”</p><p>“What do I look like, stupid?”</p><p>“Was it really easy to guess then? Like ‘password’ or ‘allisonisaqueen’?”</p><p>Her grin is shark-like. “Nope. Before I had to change it last week, my password was D1fgebTT!x.”</p><p>“I hope you made the new one harder to guess,” says Neil sarcastically. “Wait, why did you have to change it?”</p><p>Allison shrugs. “Who knows? I got a your-account-is-locked-out message and I had to get it reset.”</p><p>“Could the person who posted the false test do the same thing? Have your password reset so they could log-in to your account?”</p><p>“I guess, but I had to prove my identity to the IT guy before he would reset my account.”</p><p>“I should talk to the IT guy,” says Neil. “Thanks. This was actually helpful.”</p><p>“I live to serve,” replies Allison insincerely.</p><p>“Oh, hey, can you think of anyone who hates you enough to post the false test?”</p><p>She just raises an eyebrow and looks around pointedly. “I think the only reason I’m not public enemy number one around here is because you exist.”</p>
<hr/><p>After a couple pointed questions to the vice principal, Neil learns that the school board outsources their IT needs to a local company who have rotating on-site IT professionals. One “borrowed” form from the admin office (thanks, Matt!) later and Neil has the company’s name. After school, he runs the information through his PI database to get the list of employees. He’ll have to investigate each employee to find some hint of possible motive.</p><p>He’s on the third name on the list when his cell phone buzzes. “Yeah?” he answers, without checking to see who’s calling.</p><p>“Is this Christopher Josten?” an official sounding voice asks.</p><p>“Yes, it is,” replies Neil, sitting up straighter. He’d almost given up on getting this call.</p><p>“This is the Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility. Your request to meet with inmate Patrick DiMaccio has been approved. Here are the instructions for your visit.” The voice continues to drone on and Neil picks up a pencil to jot down all the information. He apparently needs to be at least eighteen to visit; no worries, he’s already made Chris Josten an ID and it claims he’s twenty-one.</p><p>After getting the idea to talk to DiMaccio a couple weeks ago, Neil contacted George Waterhouse, public defender to the stars. As he had recently been fired by DiMaccio, he didn’t have much information for Neil, but promised to pass on a letter. Neil wrote DiMaccio an impassioned request to meet, identifying himself as a Stanford criminal justice major working on a project concerning the Jean Moriyama murder. He sent a photoshopped picture of himself next to a Stanford landmark (DiMaccio being a Stanford alumnus) and waited. And waited. And almost given up.</p><p>When he hangs up he feels like he might vibrate out of his skin. There’s a chance that in a couple days he’ll finally get answers. To distract himself from the nervous energy humming through his blood, he returns to researching IT guys. He sighs at the tedious work. He’s probably going to have to dig deep, follow them around, until he finds a link to someone who doesn’t like Katelyn, Thea, or Allison.</p><p>Or, he thinks, a slow smile spreading across his face as he pulls up the information for IT employee number four, maybe it will jump out at him.</p>
<hr/><p>His plan to force a confession isn’t particularly subtle. It basically boils down to confronting the perpetrator and indicating he knows what she did and hoping she agrees and incriminates herself. It’s actually surprising how often the method works.</p><p>He’s waiting outside her locker before homeroom.</p><p>“Marissa Sinclair,” he says sweetly. “How are you enjoying the lack of Paw Points since yours all got confiscated for rigging the election?”</p><p>“What do you want?” she replies acidly.</p><p>He waves a folder, containing nothing but blank sheets, in her direction. “I know what you did with the purity tests,” he says. “I know your older brother works for a company called Solutions IT and reset accounts so you could create false results.”</p><p>She eyes the folder. “What are you going to do about it?”</p><p>“Restore the reputations you tried to ruin?”</p><p>Marissa huffs and crosses her arms tightly. “They had it coming.”</p><p>“Sure, I can understand Allison, if this is still about your pathetic crush on Kevin,” allows Neil.</p><p>“Do you <em>really</em> want to compare pathetic crushes on Kevin?” she snaps.</p><p>“And maybe Thea, since he actually likes her instead of you,” continues Neil, ignoring her insinuation. “But what did Katelyn do to you?”</p><p>“Ugh, she’s too perfect,” says Marissa. “She gets all the things I want, like a rich boyfriend and the flyer position in cheerleading. She’s not even that talented or pretty. People just give her what she wants because she’s poor and Mexican.”</p><p>“Yeah,” drawls Neil, “she enjoys so much more privilege than you do.”</p><p>“Anyway, you can’t prove it,” says Marissa.</p><p>“I don’t have to,” replies Neil, turning to the locker behind him and opening it. Inside, pointing at through the slats in the door, is a video camera. “You just told everyone.” He turns the camera off and shoves it in his bag, striding off to the sound of Marissa’s outraged cry.</p><p>He gives the tape to Katelyn at lunch.</p><p>“You know what we should do,” suggests Renee, “is play it during the morning news segment. That way everyone will know you were framed.”</p><p>“You can do that?” asks Katelyn.</p><p>“Sure, I’m the producer,” smiles Renee, although it is more devious than sweet.</p><p>“I like you better when you’re not acting saintly,” decides Neil.</p><p>“I like you in general,” she replies. “We should hang out more often.”</p><p>Neil rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “We don’t really run in the same crowd anymore.”</p><p>“You have more friends than you think,” says Renee, meeting his eyes levelly. When he doesn’t do more than shrug noncommittally, she smiles a touch wryly. “Thank you for doing this.”</p><p>“My fee is all the thanks I require,” jokes Neil.</p>
<hr/><p>His palms are sweating as he submits his bag to be searched by prison officials. He feels trapped, and he hasn’t even gotten past the entranceway yet. The whole place makes him feel jittery; he wants to run fast and far.</p><p>Instead he endures all the checks, before getting a visitor pass and being escorted back into the meeting room. It looks surprisingly like a TV prison, two booths with a stool and a telephone facing each other, separated by a thick pane of bullet proof glass. Patrick DiMaccio is wearing an orange jumpsuit and is already waiting for him. He grins as he picks up the phone. Neil sits down warily and picks up his own phone.</p><p>“Chris, was it?” asks DiMaccio.</p><p>“Yes,” says Neil. “Chris Josten, from Stanford.”</p><p>“You must be smart to get into such a good school.”</p><p>“Well,” deflects Neil. “I’m not the only one.”</p><p>“So what can I help you with today? Something about a project?”</p><p>“Right,” says Neil, pulling two photos out of his messenger bag. “I was looking through the evidence in the Jean Moriyama murder case and I found some inconsistencies.” He’s been practicing in front of the mirror, in order to keep all emotion out of his face and voice. “See these two pictures? They show the crime scene right after his death and the evidence that was found in your house. How did you get those shoes? Were they planted there?”</p><p>DiMaccio’s face gets stormier and stormier as Neil speaks. “So that’s what you’re here for, is it?”</p><p>“I just don’t see how you could have killed the Moriyama kid the way it’s been reported.”</p><p>“And you what? Want me to tell you the exact sound it made when I smashed your friend’s skull in?” sneers DiMaccio. “I killed him. I killed him in cold blood and if you were there I would have killed you too.”</p><p>“What—”</p><p>“I know exactly who you are. You think I wouldn’t recognize the sheriff’s brat? Your father would be so disappointed.”</p><p>“My father is on your side; he wants to prove your innocence.”</p><p>DiMaccio scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Not the sheriff, anyone can see you’re not his spawn. No, I mean your <em>real</em> father. Hell of a man, he was.”</p><p>“You know my father?” gasps Neil, disbelieving. <em>He</em> doesn’t know who his father is, how could DiMaccio?</p><p>“Old friend of mine. You’re the spitting image of him, Junior. You’re named after him, you know. Nathan Wesninski.”</p><p>The name causes a visceral reaction in Neil that he doesn’t understand or expect. He hangs up the phone and blindly rushes from the visitation area. He holds it in until he gets to the parking lot and then doubles up and vomits into a trash can.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who is reading and engaging with this fic! I'm glad you seem to like it so far.</p><p>Content warnings: involuntary outing, referenced racism, reference to "pray the gay away" camps, referenced murder</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil’s restless, practically vibrating out of his skin. <em>Nathan Wesninski</em>. The name means nothing to him, yet his mind shies away from it with instinctive fear. His biological father. The man who made his mom so tense and afraid all the time.</p><p>He’s annoyed about his reaction at the prison; he should have stayed and asked DiMaccio more pointed questions—if not about Jean then at least about his father. Panic was a stupid response; he can’t be hurt by simply hearing a name.</p><p>He’s not willing to be taken off guard like that again. Which means he needs to find all the information he can about Nathan Wesninski, no matter how reluctant he is. He reminds himself he’s not looking for his father; he already has a dad, a good one, who he won’t give up for anything.</p><p>He types the name into his PI database with trepidation. He doesn’t know what he hopes to find. It’s an uncommon name, and there’s only one local hit. Neil finds an old arrest record, a couple misdemeanours, a marriage license co-signed with Mary Hatford, and a death notification. June 1995. Neil quickly does the math. He was eight at the time and had been living with his dad for about three months.</p><p>There are no details about the man’s death and the local newspaper’s website doesn’t carry archives that old. He sighs and packs his laptop into his messenger bag. Time for a trip to the library.</p><p>It doesn’t take him long flipping through the microfiche to find what he’s looking for. The death of Nathan Wesninski was front page news for weeks. He was a local businessman, in real estate development. He was a colleague of Kengo Moriyama; the man is quoted more than once lamenting his tragic death. The pictures of Wesninski make Neil’s heart skip a beat. It’s like looking in a distorted mirror. Wesninski is older and taller than he is, but he’s got the exact same shade of auburn hair and his eyes are the same light blue. More than one person has commented about how unique and distinctive Neil’s eyes are. To see them staring out at him from a different face is more than a little disconcerting. Wesninski’s frozen smile is sharp and sends a chill down Neil’s spine; his stomach again threatens to bring up everything he’s eaten.</p><p>The reporting is sensationalist and lurid, much the same way the news outlets handled Jean’s murder last year. Apparently the shocking deaths of the uber-wealthy sells papers. There’s some discrepancy with the details; the earliest reports call it a murder. Wesninski was shot in his office and the gun used was apparently not found. The bullet wound was in the centre of his forehead with a downward angle, like he was shot execution-style. However, later reports state that the door was locked from the inside and Wesninski had been in money trouble. About a month after his death, the investigation was closed: Sheriff David Wymack officially ruled it a suicide.</p><p>Neil sits back in his chair, new information swirling in his head. He wonders if his dad knows Wesninski is Neil’s biological father. He wonders if his dad covered up Wesninski’s murder. His dad is a good man with strong principles, but if it was a matter of protecting Neil? Neil’s not sure how far he’d go.</p><p>He can’t ask him outright; if his dad wanted him to know any of this, he would have already told him. He knows one wrong step can potentially ruin his dad’s faith in him. He’s got to approach this carefully.</p>
<hr/><p>There’s a commotion in the hallway when Neil arrives at school the next morning. People are holding and whispering over fliers that seem to have originated from a box hanging on the outside of a locker. There’s a bright rainbow above the box and sparkly letters on it spell out, ‘Robin’s Out Box’.</p><p>He catches snatches of whispers, mostly, “Can you believe—” and “A lesbian—” He keeps his head down. This is bringing up too many memories of his own outing.</p><p>“Neil!” a voice calls, sounding panicked.</p><p>He looks up instinctively and, when he catches sight of who called him, he says, “Nope,” and spins on his heel to leave as quickly as possible.</p><p>Of course it’s not that easy. It takes a couple hallways, but Nicky Hemmick eventually catches him, almost shaking in desperation. “Neil,” he says. “I need your help.”</p><p>Neil grits his jaw and averts his eyes. Nicky is someone he goes out of his way to avoid. His memories of the night of Janie Smalls’ party are hazy—mostly shattered lights and thumping music and grasping hands—but he does know, from the video evidence, that Nicky took advantage of his drugged state. Nicky is not someone he wishes to interact with ever again.</p><p>“I owe you nothing,” spits Neil. “After what you did, I should destroy you.”</p><p>“Destroy—?” Nicky’s completely at a loss. “What I did? What do you mean?”</p><p>Neil stares at him. “The video?”</p><p>“Well, of course I’m not happy about that,” says Nicky uncomfortably. “But I didn’t post it. It’s not like I didn’t suffer any repercussions.”</p><p>“I’m not talking about posting it, I’m talking about what it shows.”</p><p>“We made out a little?” says Nicky, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m not sure how you can blame me for that. It takes two.”</p><p>Neil huffs. “Yeah, except when one of them has been roofied and is incapable of consent.”</p><p>Nicky blanches. “You were—Oh my God. I had no idea. I was super drunk, but I never would have—” He reaches for Neil in an attempt to comfort.</p><p>“Don’t touch me,” snaps Neil and Nicky flinches away as if burned.</p><p>“I didn’t know,” he says in a small voice. “I didn’t give you anything. I barely saw you at all that night. We bumped into each other, kissed a little, and then you wandered away. I didn’t see you again.”</p><p>“That’s all?” checks Neil.</p><p>“Well,” says Nicky, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “you did mention that you preferred kissing Kevin.”</p><p>“Fuck,” says Neil, hanging his head and closing his eyes.</p><p>“But I’ll never tell anyone that!” Nicky hurries to assure him. “I would never out someone. I know what that feels like.”</p><p>“As do I,” says Neil dryly.</p><p>“Which is why I need your help,” says Nicky plaintively. “It’s not for me, but a bunch of people are going to be outed unless you stop it. You saw what happened to Robin, didn’t you?”</p><p>Neil looks around the hallway, deems it too crowded, and pulls Nicky into an abandoned classroom. “Explain.”</p><p>“I am the administrator of a chatroom for LGBT students,” says Nicky. “They’re anonymous to each other, but I have a masterlist of emails and usernames. I keep the list on a couple USB keys so no one else can access the identities of the students and harass them; one is securely locked in a drawer in my bedroom, and the other I keep on me at all times.”</p><p>“And you lost one?” Neil guesses.</p><p>“I was mugged,” says Nicky miserably. “Have you heard about the recent rash of pizza boy muggings?”</p><p>“I think I heard about it on the news a couple days ago,” Neil allows. “Klose Pizza is being targeted, right?</p><p>“Right. I was the third one. The thief puts in a fake order at a real address and waits for the delivery person to arrive. Then they tase them and steal everything of value on them.”</p><p>“They took your USB key?”</p><p>“Yeah, and then a couple days later, Robin got an email threatening to out her if she didn’t pay $5000. And, well… you saw what happened.”</p><p>Neil sighs. “Why can’t the evil just get jobs like the rest of us?”</p><p>“Can you help?” asks Nicky pathetically. “I wanted to create a safe space for these students to express themselves, and I failed them. I don’t want anyone else to be outed.”</p><p>“I can look into it,” says Neil. “Do you have a list of the false addresses used? Maybe there’s a pattern.”</p><p>“Yeah,” says Nicky, hastily pulling a crumpled sheet out of his school bag. “I thought that might be helpful.” He shoves the paper into Neil’s hands.</p><p>“Also,” says Neil, “what the hell are you doing working for Klose Pizza? Your parents are loaded.”</p><p>Nicky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He takes a seat at an empty desk and threads his hands together nervously. “Uhhh…” he says. “Well, I—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, and then tries again, “The summer before last I came out to my parents. I knew they didn’t approve of <em>the sins of homosexuality</em>,” he uses a deep, mocking voice, presumably that of his televangelist father, “but I thought they’d love me anyway. Instead they sent me to Camp SelfQuest.”</p><p>“Camp…?”</p><p>“It teaches kids how not to be gay,” says Nicky bitterly.</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil, slowly sinking into another seat. “Fuck, Nicky.”</p><p>“I know,” says Nicky laughing thinly. “It didn’t help, except to teach me that I had to keep myself hidden. So when I came back to school at the beginning of last year, I started the website so I would have a place where I could be me, while I kept being straight in public.”</p><p>“Damn.”</p><p>“Anyway, when that video of us was released… well, my dad wasn’t very happy with me. He gave me an ultimatum: go back to SelfQuest and get it right, or leave home forever.”</p><p>“Where did you go?”</p><p>“I slept on park benches for a couple nights, or crouched in alleyways.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you go to Andrew or Aaron? They’re your cousins.”</p><p>Nicky flushes. “I didn’t want them to know.”</p><p>Neil nods in understanding.</p><p>“A couple days of that and I was about to fold; go home and give in to what my dad wanted. But then I was caught stealing food out of the dumpster behind Klose Pizza. Do you remember Erik Klose?”</p><p>“Uh, he went here freshman year?” says Neil, in thought. “Tiny, blond kid?”</p><p>“Not so tiny anymore,” says Nicky with a wry smile. “But, yeah, that’s him. He transferred to Pan High after freshman year because he was bullied so badly by some of the upper year kids for being a pansy.”</p><p>“People are awful.”</p><p>“They sure are. He takes a bus forty-five minutes to and from school now. His family couldn’t move because they own the pizza restaurant in town.”</p><p>“They took you in?”</p><p>Nicky nods and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Yeah, they’re great. They’ve shown me what a real family is supposed to be like. And Erik and I are together now.”</p><p>“I’m glad that worked out for you.”</p><p>“Me, too,” says Nicky. “But I don’t know what repercussions the other people on the chatroom might face if we don’t catch the blackmailer. Please, Neil-Wan Kenobi. You’re our only hope.”</p>
<hr/><p>After going through the list and matching names to addresses, there is only one name Neil recognizes. And she owes him.</p><p>“Hey, Katelyn,” he says, approaching her lunch table.</p><p>Her shitty boyfriend, the improbably-named Paris, looks up at him with a sneer. “What are you doing here, traitor?”</p><p>“Speaking to Katelyn,” says Neil slowly, “which is why I said, ‘Hey, Katelyn’ and not ‘Hey, Shithead’.”</p><p>Paris puffs up, but Katelyn puts a restraining hand on his arm. “It’s fine,” she says quietly. “I’ll go talk with him. It’s probably a homework question.”</p><p>Paris still looks distrustful as Katelyn gets up and watches them with narrow eyes as they walk to an empty table and take a seat.</p><p>Neil purses his lips. “So you’re still dating that asshole, huh?” He’s not great at keeping his opinion to himself.</p><p>“It’s complicated,” says Katelyn, bristling a little. “What do you want?”</p><p>He hands her the list. “Have you heard about the pizza boy muggings that are happening in your neighbourhood?”</p><p>“Yeah,” sighs Katelyn. “I’m worried that Klose’s will stop delivering to our part of town and they’re the best pizza in the area.”</p><p>“Did you know your address was used to lure one of the delivery guys?”</p><p>“No,” gasps Katelyn. “That’s horrible. You don’t think I have anything to do with it?”</p><p>“It doesn’t really seem to be your style,” admits Neil. “But I was wondering if you know anyone else on this list? And whether you have anything in common that might explain why your addresses were used to place fake orders?”</p><p>She peruses the list with a frown. “Well, everyone on this list is a coconut,” she says wryly.</p><p>“Coconut?” echoes Neil.</p><p>“You know, brown on the outside, white on the inside? Like an oreo, but for brown people.”</p><p>“Well that’s… terrible,” says Neil. “You think that might be why?”</p><p>Katelyn shrugs. “It’s the only connection I can think of.”</p><p>“Can you make a list of all the kids who get given a hard time for being coconuts?” Neil asks. “That way if an order comes in from any of them, I can set a trap for the mugger.”</p><p>Katelyn gives him a shrewd look. “You’ll be careful, though, right? I assume they’re dangerous.”</p><p>Neil winks. “I’m always careful.”</p>
<hr/><p>Neil’s sitting in Klose Pizza, Backup at his feet, doing his homework. Normally a restaurant wouldn’t welcome a dog into it, but Backup is wearing his (illegitimate—sometimes Backup needs a cover, too) service dog vest. Plus, Neil’s helping them out. Mr. Klose has already told him thankfully more than once how grateful he is that Neil’s looking into the muggings. The sheriff hasn’t been of any help—which is <em>super</em> shocking, given which part of town they’re in.</p><p>He’s been here since school let out, only stopping briefly at home to get Backup. It was quiet at first, but now dinner orders have started pouring in. Nicky reports to him after taking each order, to check against the list Katelyn made.</p><p>“You know, you’re on this list,” Neil idly mentions.</p><p>Nicky rolls his eyes. “Of course I am. I’m the whitest brown kid ever. Did you know my dad wouldn’t even let my mom teach me Spanish? I had to learn from the housekeeper.”</p><p>“We’ve already established that your dad’s a winner,” says Neil.</p><p>The bell on the door chimes behind him. Nicky’s face lights up like a lamp coming on as he glances over Neil’s shoulder. “Erik!” he calls happily.</p><p>Neil turns and falters. “Whoa,” he says. He vaguely remembers a little scrawny kid, with thick glasses and braces. Erik does not look like that anymore. He’s well over six feet now, and rectangular-shaped, made completely of muscle.</p><p>“I know,” says Nicky smugly as Erik grins in response. He makes his way over to them, putting an arm around Nicky and pressing a kiss to his temple. Neil looks away from the casual public display of affection.</p><p>“So you agreed to help?” says Erik.</p><p>“Yup,” says Neil. “Good to see you again.”</p><p>“You, too. I’m glad you’re here; Nicky speaks highly of you.”</p><p>Neil sends a puzzled glance to Nicky; as far as he knows his group of friends hates Neil with a passion.</p><p>“He got Riko Moriyama suspended and sent to military school by planting a bong in his locker,” says Nicky enthusiastically.</p><p>“That I did,” agrees Neil.</p><p>The phone rings again and Nicky goes to answer it while Erik heads into the staff room to get ready for his shift.</p><p>About half an hour, and six orders, later an order comes in from someone on Neil’s list.</p><p>“Okay, let’s go,” he says, getting to his feet and nudging Backup from where he’s busy staring and slobbering at the boxes of pizza.</p><p>Neil drives to the address and hangs back, waiting for Erik to show up with the delivery. He palms his stun gun and clips Backup’s leash onto him, pretending to be a normal person going for a walk… in a rough neighbourhood, in the dark. He can only imagine the grumbling and lecturing he’d get if his dad knew what he was doing.</p><p>He doesn’t have to loiter around inconspicuously for long. Erik pulls up to the curb in a brightly-coloured car with a Klose Pizza decal, music blaring. He hasn’t taken more than two steps toward the house when a small (even shorter than Neil) black-clad figure darts towards him.</p><p>“Stop!” cries Neil. Backup barks and growls as they approach the stranger. “If you move, I’ll let him eat you.”</p><p>The figure pauses, eyeing Backup, then puts their hands up in surrender.</p><p>“Take off your bandana,” says Neil.</p><p>They do and Neil does a double take. “But you’re a kid!” he says incredulously.</p><p>“I’m thirteen,” says the kid defiantly.</p><p>“The fuck you doing assaulting pizza delivery guys?” demands Neil.</p><p>Erik looks worried. “Language,” he hisses.</p><p>Neil rolls his eyes. “The kid’s already a tiny criminal; I doubt he’s never heard the word fuck before.”</p><p>“Fuck yeah,” says the kid.</p><p>“Watch your mouth,” snaps Neil. “And explain why the hell you’re blackmailing people.”</p><p>“Blackmail?” asks the kid, completely nonplussed. “I didn’t blackmail anyone. Just stole some money and stuff. I heard the PCH club won’t let you in until you prove yourself.”</p><p>“The—” Neil shakes his head. “Hold on a sec.” He holds up one finger and pulls out his phone, dialing a number he stored on the off chance he might need it. “I have an issue you need to deal with,” he says as soon as the phone connects. He waits through the predictable insults. “The corner of Cherry and First. Yeah, I know that’s your territory; that’s why I called you, genius.” He waits for confirmation again and then snaps his phone closed. “Should be a couple minutes,” he tells his two companions, who are now gaping at him.</p><p>The rumble of motorcycles precedes the arrival of the PCHers. Seth takes off his helmet and gives Neil a flat look. “I am not your dog that you can call whenever you want.”</p><p>“I figured you wanted to know who was attacking pizza boys on your turf,” says Neil, gesturing to the kid with jazz hands.</p><p>“Him?” asks Seth incredulously. “He’s ten!”</p><p>“I’m <em>thirteen</em>,” stresses the kid.</p><p>“I severely doubt it,” replies Seth.</p><p>“Anyway, he’s been attacking people in an effort to join your club,” says Neil. “I trust you’ll deal with this?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” sighs Seth. “Come here, kid. We’re going to have a little chat.”</p><p>The kid looks appropriately terrified.</p><p>“What about the blackmail?” asks Erik.</p><p>“I don’t think this kid is smart enough to spell blackmail, let alone do it,” replies Neil. “The list must have gotten out some other way.”</p>
<hr/><p>Neil’s lying on his back on his bed, staring blankly at the picture of Nathan Wesninski he printed out at the library. He doesn’t feel any connection to the man, except for a distant aversion. He assumes his dislike would be much stronger if he was still alive. He wonders what happened between Wesninski and his mother. They must have loved each other at one point, hadn’t they? Why else would they get married?</p><p>Thinking of his mother gives him an idea. He has almost nothing of hers, save for the few items she left with him when she dropped him off on his dad’s front stoop (she pinned a letter that read DAVID WYMACK to his shirt, he remembers, but he’s never seen the letter. He doesn’t know if his dad kept it). Neil keeps all his mother’s things in a shoebox on a shelf in his closet. He drags over a chair and climbs up, moving junk aside until he can find the shoebox and take it out.</p><p>There isn’t much. There’s a piece of identification, for Carole King, with his mother’s picture on it. She has dark hair pulled into a ponytail and brown eyes. She doesn’t look like any memory he has of her. There’s a few ticket stubs, from the bus they took to Palmetto from San Diego. And there’s a small, grey stuffed elephant. Neil doesn’t remember being attached to it. Was this his toy? He squeezes it absent-mindedly and notices that there’s a hard shape in the middle of it. Intrigued, he picks up a pair of scissors from his desk and performs surgery.</p><p>Inside, he finds a key. A big, square, solid key that reads PFNB on the tab.</p><p>A safety deposit box key.</p>
<hr/><p>“Neil,” says Nicky, desperately, pulling him into an empty classroom before class.</p><p>“Deja vu,” replies Neil.</p><p>“The blackmail hasn’t stopped,” says Nicky. “Someone else got an email.”</p><p>“Did you tell them to come talk to me?” asks Neil. “It will be helpful if I can see the email.”</p><p>“I told them to,” says Nicky. “I’m not sure they will.”</p><p>“The source of the blackmail may be coming from within,” says Neil. “If the usernames and emails haven’t been leaked, then the people on the server are the only ones who know about it, yes? Maybe one of them was able to pick up enough clues to figure out who everyone else is.”</p><p>“Maybe…” says Nicky dubiously. “I don’t want to think that anyone is capable of that.”</p><p>“Of course you don’t,” replies Neil. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t. I need access to the website.”</p><p>Nicky balks. “I can’t let you spy on them!”</p><p>“Just to look for any indication who the blackmailer can be,” says Neil placatingly. “I won’t participate and I promise not to share the information.”</p><p>Nicky still hesitates.</p><p>“Come on, Nicky,” cajoles Neil. “Do you really think that <em>I</em> am going to out someone against their will? I mean, shouldn’t I have gotten an invitation to join the site, anyway?”</p><p>Nicky blows out a sigh. “Fine. But only to find the blackmailer. Don’t use this information for anything else.”</p><p>“Promise,” says Neil, making a cross across his heart, like they’re still kids.</p>
<hr/><p>Neil browses through old chats for a while, not wanting to infringe on users' privacy more than he has to. He skims over personal posts, keeping his eyes open for threats or hints to peoples’ identities. Although most users seem to use the platform as Nicky intended, there’s a couple, <strong>monster_cock</strong> and <strong>rowyourboat</strong> in particular, who seem to only use it to find hookups.</p><p>Neil finds himself becoming fond of some of the posters, particularly <strong>applesauce</strong> and <strong>french_fries</strong> who both have a dry sense of humour. He suspects that <strong>french_fries</strong> is older; they stopped posting some time the previous year, possibly after graduating.</p><p>It’s interesting to watch the relationships developing: <strong>applesauce</strong> and <strong>tiny</strong> spend a lot of time flirting, as do <strong>french_fries</strong> and <strong>captain.sunshine</strong>. Neil’s reluctantly charmed by their interactions. Until he gets to a post from well over a year ago, late August before Neil’s junior year.</p><p><em>went to the pier with my bff</em>, writes <strong>french_fries</strong>, <em>he taught me card tricks to rip off the tourists</em></p><p><em>lol</em>, responds <strong>captain.sunshine</strong>, <em>you’ll have to show me sometime</em></p><p>Neil breathes in carefully. He remembers that day. He and Jean conned so many people out of their money. Neil taught him Three Card Monte and how to palm a card. They never told anyone: Kevin would have been disapproving of making money dishonestly, and Jean and Neil liked having their own, separate friend outings.</p><p>He knows there’s a chance that it could be someone else, but the coincidence is too much for him. He opens up the username and email list that Nicky provided him, hands trembling. Sure enough, halfway down the page in black and white, <strong>french_fries</strong> is listed next to the email address jean.moriyama@palmetto.edu. Neil scans the sheet frantically. It’s organized alphabetically by email, and near the top he finds <strong>captain.sunshine</strong> is 5jkr23@panhigh.edu. Neil stares at it. He’ll have to ask Nicky about that one.</p><p>His breath stutters as he catches the email a few lines below <strong>captain.sunshine</strong>. <strong>monster_cock</strong> is none other than andrew.spear@palmetto.edu. Neil snorts. Real classy, Andrew.</p><p>But if Jean and Andrew are both gay, or at the very least attracted to men, then what about Renee? He scans the list again, and finds that renee.walker@palmetto.edu is included. Her username is <strong>saint.rainbow</strong>. From what Neil has seen she spends a lot of time sending positive messages and offering support to those struggling.</p><p>He shakes himself. This isn’t important. He feels more than a little hurt that two of his closest friends didn’t bother to share their sexuality with him, but tries to remind himself that this isn’t about him. This is about the students being blackmailed and being forcibly outed.</p><p>It takes him a while, reading posts with his attention split, but he finally finds something. It’s from <strong>rowyourboat</strong>, one of Andrew’s seemingly frequent hookups. About a month ago, he wrote, <em>don’t forget i know who you are</em>, in a conversation with Andrew. <em>i could make you pay me hush money</em>.</p><p>Perusing through the identity list gives him the information that <strong>rowyourboat</strong> is actually Roland Howarth, a junior Neil only knows by name. Well, he thinks grimly, he’s about to get to know him a whole lot better.</p>
<hr/><p>“So,” says Neil, dropping down beside Roland, who’s sitting on the floor next to his locker, scribbling out his math homework before the first bell. “Blackmailing gay kids. Must make you feel powerful, threatening to out them.”</p><p>Roland looks at him blandly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Sure you do. Nicky has me looking into the blackmailings.”</p><p>“And you think <em>I’m</em> doing it? I’ve been sweating buckets ever since Robin was outed,” hisses Roland, glancing around. “I don’t have that kind of money. I’ve been counting down the days until I can go to college and can come out of the closet without… well, you know.”</p><p>“Yes, I do,” says Neil. “I also know that you threatened to out An—monster cock,” he grimaces over his stumble as Roland smirks, “if they didn’t pay you hush money.”</p><p>“Like he cares,” shrugs Roland. “He’d never pay. He doesn’t care about anything. Well,” he corrects, looking Neil up and down, “except maybe you.”</p><p>“I—what?” asks Neil. “We must be thinking about different people.”</p><p>“Sure,” drawls Roland, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, it’s not me. I thought you were supposed to be <em>good</em> at this intrepid teen detective thing?”</p>
<hr/><p>Neil’s still puzzling through who the culprit could be at lunch, when Janie Smalls stands on top of her lunch table. “I have an announcement,” she says loudly. “I am a lesbian. Robin Cross is my girlfriend.” She sits back down amid shocked silence. Neil’s not surprised: he knows she’s <strong>tiny</strong> and Robin is <strong>applesauce</strong>.</p><p>Neil catches sight of Renee, looking surprised and shaken, and decides that he needs answers.</p><p>“Hey,” he says, atypically gently, sitting down at her table.</p><p>She looks at him steadily for a couple beats. Then she glances back to Janie. “She and I used to hook up sometimes,” she says nonchalantly. “Nicky said you were looking into the blackmail.”</p><p>“Yeah,” replies Neil. “Are you being blackmailed?”</p><p>She pauses again and then sighs, before pulling a printed out email from her bag. It’s short and to the point, giving an address for her to send the money to.</p><p>“I don’t want to pay,” she says, “but if I’m outed it will reflect on more people than just me.”</p><p>“Like your boyfriends,” says Neil, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice.</p><p>Renee catches it instantly. “Jean felt bad for not telling you.”</p><p>“What didn’t he?” He hates how small he sounds.</p><p>“I don’t know. He had his reasons. His dad was adamant that he and Kevin should appear straight. He agonized that you didn’t know he had a boyfriend.”</p><p>“Captain sunshine,” supplies Neil. “Do you know—”</p><p>“No, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you without permission,” she says, slightly censuring.</p><p>“Okay,” says Neil, getting to his feet. He waves the email. “I’ll take care of this for you.”</p>
<hr/><p>Neil stuffs a bunch of Monopoly money and a tracker into an envelope and mails it to the address specified in the email; as he suspected the address is a fake, and the envelope sits at the post office for a day. Then the tracker is on the move as it slowly makes its way to the blackmailer’s house. Once it does, he gapes in disbelief.</p><p>Janie Smalls gives him a resigned look when he approaches her the next day. “You want your tracker back?” she asks.</p><p>“You blackmailed yourself?” He doesn’t understand. “How’d you get the envelope from the post office?”</p><p>“My mom works there.”</p><p>“Smart,” allows Neil reluctantly. “Why’d you do it?”</p><p>“Look, it was really shitty of me, okay? But I wanted to be out, here and now, not some nebulous time in the future. And I wanted my girlfriend to be out with me, so I can hold her hand in the hallway and kiss her in public.”</p><p>“So you blackmailed her and then forcibly outed her?” Neil doesn’t even try to hide his judgment.</p><p>Janie shrugs. “I already admitted it was shitty.”</p><p>“You know I’m going to tell her,” Neil says.</p><p>“I’ll tell her myself,” says Janie. “I took a calculated risk. I think she’ll forgive me.”</p><p>“And Renee?”</p><p>“She was one of the only others whose identity I know. I had to blackmail at least one other person, or else Robin might have gotten suspicious.”</p><p>Neil shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”</p><p>“Maybe,” she replies. “But at least I’m not longer in the closet.” She slams her locker shut and flounces away.</p><p>Neil catches up with Nicky. “I solved the case; you shouldn’t have any more problems.”</p><p>“Oh, thank you, thank you!” cries Nicky, going in for a hug before thinking better of it.</p><p>“Uh, maybe you can tell me something?” asks Neil awkwardly. “I didn’t recognize some of the emails on the list?”</p><p>“Oh, probably the ones from Pan High,” says Nicky easily. “Once I moved in with the Kloses, Erik invited some of his LGBT friends from there to join my site. I don’t know who they really are.”</p><p>“Ah,” says Neil, disappointed. “That makes sense.”</p>
<hr/><p>He uses his time well in journalism class and makes a fake death certificate for Carole King. He’s already made himself a fake ID that identifies him as Stefan King, smirking to himself as he does.</p><p>Taking both those things and the safety deposit box key, he heads to the Palmetto First National Bank after school.</p><p>“Hi,” he greets the teller. “My mother died last year and I recently found this key in her belongings?” He hands over the key and the death certificate and his fake ID.</p><p>The teller examines his documents, looks something up in the computer and then nods officiously. “Come this way.”</p><p>He’s led back into the vault and brought to safety deposit box 873. He waits until he’s alone before unlocking and opening it.</p><p>Inside is a pile of documents. A birth certificate for Nathaniel Wesninski, January 19, 1987. He never knew his birth name or even his birthday; he’s been celebrating his at the end of March on the anniversary of the day he was dropped on his dad’s doorstep. There’s also a birth certificate for his mother, Mary Hatford, born 1961, as well as a marriage certificate for Mary Hatford and Nathan Wesninski.</p><p>Underneath the legal documents, there’s a large pile of letters, all addressed to “Maz”. They’re made up entirely of threats, telling the recipient that she’s made a mistake in stealing the money and that Nate’s going to kill her and “Junior”.</p><p>In the very back of the safe, there are two thick stacks of money. He counts quickly, finding about twenty thousand dollars. Hidden beneath the money, there is an audio tape as well as several photos: surveillance pictures of Neil before he was called Neil, when he still dyed his hair and wore colour contacts. He’s always accompanied by his mother, gripping him tightly and looking around warily. Crosshairs have been drawn over Neil’s face in every single one of the photos.</p><p>His hands tremble. He thinks he’s figured out why his mother dropped him off on the sheriff’s doorstep. She was trying to protect him.</p><p>But where did she go? What happened to her? And where is she now?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil flips through the threatening letters he took from his mother’s safety deposit box for the umpteenth time. He’s read them all so many times that he can practically recite them. They’re sparse on clues. All he knows is that they’re all addressed to “Maz” and all signed “LM”. They’re not from his father, but likely from someone working for him.</p>
<p>The single audio tape is more of the same. The quality isn’t great—it sounds like a recording of a voicemail—but it’s easy enough to make out the words. A lilting, cooing woman’s voice admonishes “Maz, darling” and instructs her to return both the money and “Junior”. She sounds cheerful through the entire message, which somehow makes the threatening words even eerier. One of the pictures of him has a lipstick kiss centred above his head and <em>he looks just like his daddy</em> scrawled in the same writing that produced the letters. It sends a chill down Neil’s spine.</p>
<p>There are no envelopes, so either his mother got rid of them or they weren’t mailed. He thinks it’s the latter; these letters are written mainly for psychological terror. Otherwise, instead of writing them and taking threatening pictures, he and his mother would have just been killed.</p>
<p>He shuffles the photos under some homework as he hears his dad approach his bedroom, before knocking softly and entering.</p>
<p>“You’ve been working too hard,” he says, looking to where Neil is now surrounded by math equations. “How about milkshakes and a ball game?” He looks ridiculously hopeful.</p>
<p>Neil smiles. “Sure thing, dad,” he says, closing his laptop. He gets up and then, following an uncommon urge, he walks over and hugs his father. He can feel him tense in surprise—Neil is not naturally tactile—but he automatically wraps his arms around him, cradling the back of his head.</p>
<p>“What’s this about, kid?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” replies Neil. “I’m just glad you’re you.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>He’s shoving his books into his bag before first period when there’s shouting across the hall. He looks up, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he sees that it’s Kevin making the noise. He’s pushing Seth and threatening him with reporting him for theft.</p>
<p>“And you’ll report yourself, too, at the same time?” sneers Seth. “You’ll get your laptop back when I get my money.” He shoulder-checks Kevin out of his way and heads down the hallway.</p>
<p>Kevin puffs up in anger and glances around in embarrassment; he catches sight of Neil and makes a beeline for him.</p>
<p>“Seth stole my laptop,” he announces.</p>
<p>“Sounds like you owe him money,” replies Neil blandly. He closes his locker and heads to class.</p>
<p>Kevin tags along on his heels. “This should concern you; there is… sensitive information on my laptop.”</p>
<p>Neil narrows his eyes. “What kind of sensitive information?”</p>
<p>“I keep a journal on there so my dad can’t get at it; it’s password protected, but who knows if anyone can crack it.”</p>
<p>“What kind of sensitive information?” Neil asks again, this time more shrilly.</p>
<p>Kevin glances around shiftily. “Thoughts and feelings; secrets you told me… stuff from when we were together.”</p>
<p>“You may have noticed that <em>I’m</em> not the one still in the closet.”</p>
<p>“So you’d be fine with information about your scars getting out?” hisses Kevin. “Or some of the stuff you told me about your mom?”</p>
<p>“You <em>wrote that down</em>?” chokes Neil.</p>
<p>“And… you know, I did a couple sketches of you without a shirt on.” Kevin’s turning positively red at this point.</p>
<p>Neil wants to punch him. He’s self-conscious about the scars on his chest, remnants of his time on the run and his father’s terrible parenting in the first three years of his life.</p>
<p>“Why are those <em>on your computer</em>?” he demands.</p>
<p>“For safekeeping. I had to get rid of the originals so my dad wouldn’t find them.”</p>
<p>“Why not hide them in your air conditioning vent like usual?”</p>
<p>Kevin gives him a strange look and Neil remembers that was Jean’s way of hiding stuff he didn’t want his dad to find, not Kevin’s.</p>
<p>“Asshole,” gripes Neil. “Fine. Why did Seth steal your laptop?”</p>
<p>“He thinks I have something to do with his missing money.”</p>
<p>“What money?”</p>
<p>“Well, he was at our monthly poker game,” starts Kevin.</p>
<p>“What? Why?” interrupts Neil. “And define ‘our’.”</p>
<p>Kevin shrugs. “Andrew hosts them in his pool house. It’s first come, first serve. The first five people who ante up $1000 can join. This time it was me, Andrew, Aaron, Seth, and Jeremy Knox.”</p>
<p>“Jeremy Knox?”</p>
<p>“He’s a childhood friend of mine; he goes to Pan High.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, I think Jean mentioned him once or twice,” says Neil thoughtfully. “Okay, so what happened?”</p>
<p>“Andrew almost always wins these things,” explains Kevin, “his poker face cannot be beaten. But Seth went all in with nothing, and then got super lucky on the river card. Seriously, super lucky. There were 42 cards remaining in the deck and Andrew would have won if he dealt 40 of them. Seth ended up winning with a pair of twos.”</p>
<p>“That makes me strangely happy,” says Neil. “Why’s Andrew still hosting poker games? He hasn’t been at school for weeks.”</p>
<p>“He seems fine to me,” replies Kevin. “Anyway, after Seth won, Andrew opened up the cash box, only to find it empty. Someone must have stolen it. Seth’s livid; he thinks we orchestrated it to cheat him.”</p>
<p>“Did you?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“No!” says Kevin in affront. “Or at least, I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Walk me through the night,” says Neil. “You all show up at Andrew’s…”</p>
<p>“Everyone put in their ante and Andrew rolled up the cash and put it in the lock box. It wasn’t locked, but it was closed and set on the table in full view of everyone.”</p>
<p>“So anyone could have taken it, if everyone else was distracted?”</p>
<p>Kevin shrugs. “I guess so. There were bathroom breaks and food breaks and drink breaks… I think someone was always at the table, but there could have been small pockets of time that it was unattended.”</p>
<p>“Who do you think took the money?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” says Kevin helplessly. “I only know it wasn’t me.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Seth doesn’t look particularly surprised when Neil catches up with him later that morning. “I think right now you owe me a favour, so you better not be here to collect,” he says.</p>
<p>“I don’t suppose you’ll just give Kevin his laptop back?” checks Neil.</p>
<p>Seth chuckles. “Nope. But if I get my money those rich boys might find their stuff magically returned to them.”</p>
<p>“Alright, let me help,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“In what world do <em>I</em> need <em>your</em> help?” sniffs Seth.</p>
<p>Neil gives him a steady look. “This one?” he says sarcastically. “Like when I did my thing and got ‘your boys’ out of lockup? Or when I convinced Allison to confess so you’d be let out of jail?”</p>
<p>“Alright, fine, knock yourself out,” says Seth. “Go be Nancy Drew.”</p>
<p>“Why were you even there?”</p>
<p>Seth raises an eyebrow. “I hear about a high reward poker game, played by idiots, and you don’t think I want in?”</p>
<p>Neil laughs. “Fair. Tell me about it.”</p>
<p>Seth shrugs. “Wasn’t going as badly as I expected; Spear’s back to his old broody self instead of being clown-like so I didn’t have the urge to punch him in the face quite so often. Your boy Kevin was drunk out of his mind; he was mainlining vodka straight from the bottle.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like Kevin,” mutters Neil.</p>
<p>“Spear’s twin—Minyard, is it? He also was drinking like crazy; some home brew hipster shit in a wide-mouth bottle. The others kept making fun of him but he claimed he was going for a ghetto aesthetic.” Seth rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“And the other one? Jeremy?”</p>
<p>“He was alright,” allows Seth. “Too cheerful and friendly to be believable, but wasn’t outright insulting like the others.”</p>
<p>“Can you think of a time when anyone was alone with the cash box?”</p>
<p>“Spear was,” replies Seth instantly. “At one point his momma came out for a midnight swim, and damn! Lady might be old but she’s still hot. The rest of us went to check out her tiny bikini, but Spear stayed put. He could have taken it then.”</p>
<p>“You think Andrew took the money?”</p>
<p>Seth gives him a <em>well, duh</em> look. “Look, all I know is that none of those chuckleheads left with the money. I checked. He’s the only one who could have stashed it in that room for safe keeping.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Andrew’s still not returned to school after his detox/concussion, so Neil has to conceive of a reason to visit him at home. He bakes a batch of the only thing he can reliably make—snickerdoodles—and shoves them in a tupperware container.</p>
<p>Driving down the long driveway toward the Spear household gives him feelings of nostalgia. He used to spend a lot of time here before Andrew decided he didn’t like him anymore.</p>
<p>“Hi, is Andrew home?” he asks hopefully, when a maid opens the door. She points him out to the pool house in the backyard.</p>
<p>He’s accosted on his way there by Cass Spear. “Neil!” she says in greeting. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”</p>
<p>“Yes, I uh…” says Neil trailing off. “I know Andrew hasn’t been feeling well, so I brought him some get well treats.”</p>
<p>“That’s so kind of you,” she enthuses. “He’s going to be back to school soon, but he’s been a little down lately; he’ll be so happy you came.”</p>
<p>That seems unlikely, but Neil nods in agreement anyway.</p>
<p>“He’s out in the pool house,” she says, pointing helpfully. “He’s turned it into his own personal man cave.”</p>
<p>“Great,” replies Neil insincerely. “I’ll just take these out to him then.”</p>
<p>Neil knocks on the glass door to the pool house before pushing his way inside; he can easily see Andrew through the windows, playing something on his Xbox. The room is a mess, tables knocked over, stuff pulled from drawers, nothing undisturbed.</p>
<p>Andrew looks up as Neil enters. His face is completely blank, bordering on bored. “This is why I wanted attack dogs,” he says. “But my mother settled on an alpaca.”</p>
<p>“I see you’re back to normal,” says Neil. “I brought you cookies.” He hands over the tupperware.</p>
<p>Andrew inspects the container. He looks at it indifferently, but opens it and takes out a cookie. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth and reaches for a second one. He’s always been a sucker for sweets.</p>
<p>“So, I have something to ask you,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Oh, look,” deadpans Andrew. “My cookie came with a string attached.”</p>
<p>“Ha,” says Neil. “I’m trying to find out what happened to the $5000 from poker night.”</p>
<p>“Out of the goodness of your heart?”</p>
<p>“Because Kevin is a moron who writes secrets about me on his laptop,” replies Neil.</p>
<p>“And you’re here to accuse me of stealing the money?” guesses Andrew.</p>
<p>“I’m here to ask you what you think happened,” counters Neil. “Did you ever leave the table after you filled the cash box?”</p>
<p>“Did your Junior Sleuth kit come with a decoder ring? Or a pen that writes in invisible ink?”</p>
<p>Andrew picks up a half-empty bottle of Sunny-D and chugs it before sending the bottle sailing in Neil’s direction. Neil sidesteps it easily and it clatters to the floor behind him, joining several other plastic bottles and beer cans that surround the more-or-less empty recycling bin.</p>
<p>“Fine,” huffs Neil, knowing he’s not going to get anything more out of Andrew. It doesn’t matter; he’s already seen all he has to. He turns to leave.</p>
<p>“Wait,” says Andrew. “As a free gift, for the cookies, I’ll give you a clue. Talk to Knox.”</p>
<p>“Jeremy? What did he do?”</p>
<p>“I assume he needs the money. Seems like he’s got a little drug problem. His phone kept going off, and every time he silenced it and headed to the washroom. Unless he has a Pavlovian response to his ring tone that makes him urinate, he was definitely snorting something in there. Or his bladder is as small as his brain.”</p>
<p>“I think that’s the most you’ve said to me at one time in years,” muses Neil.</p>
<p>“Go buzz around someone else, I’ve got nothing else for you.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil gets Jeremy’s number from Kevin and calls him up. He’s affable and happy to talk to Neil, offering to come into Palmetto so they can meet face to face. Although Neil tells him that isn’t necessary, Jeremy insists, saying he was planning to come by and visit his pal Erik at Klose Pizza that weekend. Neil shrugs and accepts his reasoning.</p>
<p>Neil’s almost bowled over with muscles and cheery smiles when he enters Klose’s. Erik is hovering at the table of a stacked guy, with bronze hair and a sunshine smile. “Hey, Neil!” he calls. “You know Jeremy?”</p>
<p>“We go way back,” Jeremy says easily. Neil’s not sure if he’s lying or if he’s actually just easy going and friendly and assumes their two minute phone conversation constitutes a long, personal friendship.</p>
<p>“Friends of friends,” Neil qualifies, taking a seat. “Thanks for coming to meet me.”</p>
<p>“No problem! I’m in Palmetto this weekend anyway for a wrestling tournament.” Which explains all the muscles.</p>
<p>“I’ll get you guys a slice,” offers Erik.</p>
<p>“Not for me, sorry,” says Jeremy, grinning apologetically. “Team diet.”</p>
<p>“Uh, I’ll have plain cheese,” says Neil, picking the cheapest thing on the menu. He may have found twenty thousand dollars in his mother’s safety deposit box, but he left it there. He has no idea if that money is dirty or being tracked. Besides, if he does use it, it’s going to be spent on his college education.</p>
<p>“On the house,” says Erik. “You saved our delivery people; you eat here for free.”</p>
<p>“In that case, get me the Deluxe Supreme.”</p>
<p>Erik shakes his head in amusement and heads back to get Neil’s order. Jeremy has a travel cup of tea in front of him, the little paper tab on the teabag reading SUN TEA where it hangs over the rim.</p>
<p>“So you said you had questions about the poker game?” asks Jeremy.</p>
<p>“Do you often come to Palmetto to play poker?”</p>
<p>Jeremy shrugs. “Once in a while. My dad lives in town; I live mainly with my mom and stepdad, but I come stay with him some weekends. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Kevin and he was going to the game, so…”</p>
<p>“Ah,” says Neil. “Did you know anyone else beforehand?”</p>
<p>“I’ve met Andrew in passing a couple times,” says Jeremy. “I hadn’t met his twin before. And the poor kid who won, I didn’t know him, either. But he was great. Real, you know? Genuine.”</p>
<p>Neil tries to picture Seth’s response to being called a kid by Jeremy and smothers his amused snort. “Do you have any idea who took the money?”</p>
<p>“No,” says Jeremy, looking troubled.</p>
<p>Erik comes by the table with Neil’s slice of pizza and a can of pop.</p>
<p>“Hey, I do know <em>someone</em> who left the premises with money,” jokes Jeremy, pointing at Erik.</p>
<p>“You delivered pizza to the Spears’ pool house last Saturday?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Erik rolls his eyes. “Yeah; Nicky won’t go because he doesn’t want his cousin to see him and the other delivery guys are intimidated about going there. I don’t know why. Andrew’s an asshole, but he’s not usually malicious. Horrible tipper, though.”</p>
<p>“That’s right!” says Jeremy. “Didn’t he only give you a couple bucks?”</p>
<p>“Yup,” says Erik, popping the p. “But luckily Kevin noticed that he was only tipping, like, five percent. He made up the difference.”</p>
<p>“And spent the next half hour griping that Aaron never chips in for food or alcohol,” adds Jeremy. “I dunno, Aaron seemed pretty happy with his home brew. Although he and Seth almost came to blows when Aaron asked if his ‘ghetto aesthetic’ was stepping on Seth’s toes.” He sounds very disapproving. His phone chimes and he glances at it before silencing it. “That’s all I can tell you, man. Andrew must have just displaced the money; I’m sure it will turn up soon.”</p>
<p>Neil wonders if he’s actually naive or just optimistic. “I hope so,” he responds.</p>
<p>“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to training.” He gets up to give Erik a bro back-slapping hug and stops by the washroom on his way out.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil doesn’t head home after his meeting with Jeremy, but out into the wealthiest part of town. Aaron’s mom married rich during the time that Andrew was in juvie. Neil doesn’t like to speculate that Andrew’s sudden willingness to meet his brother was due to his shift in social spheres, but it does look suspicious. Neil doesn’t know much about Aaron’s stepdad, except that he’s disgustingly rich, at least forty years older than Aaron’s mother, and spends most of his time holed up in his spacious mansion.</p>
<p>Driving up to Aaron’s house in his LeBaron feels even more daunting than visiting the Spears—at least that was a house he’d been invited into in the past. This house looks like the designer was given the directive to make it look uninviting. The only thing out of place in the immaculate driveway is a clear bag of recyclables, sitting beside the garage, ready to be taken to the curb. Neil wonders why it’s not out of sight. He chuckles when he catches sight of several Sunny-D bottles alongside the wide-mouth bottles Aaron brought his home brew to the poker game in. Apparently the twins have similar taste in sugary drinks.</p>
<p>It feels like an echo of earlier at the week when he went to see Andrew. He rings the doorbell and it’s answered by a tidily-dressed, harried-looking woman with dirty blonde hair.</p>
<p>“Hi, is Aaron home?” he asks.</p>
<p>The woman makes a face as if Neil just shat on the front stoop. “He’s not allowed visitors,” she says.</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“Go away.”</p>
<p>“Ms. Minyard?” calls a voice from farther in the house. “Who’s at the door?”</p>
<p>“Nobody,” she replies. “He has no business here and he’s just leaving.” The door snaps shut.</p>
<p>Neil stares at it for a couple seconds before retreating. That was odd and he doesn’t think the rudeness was about him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil positions himself behind Aaron’s open locker so that he can grin smarmily at him when he closes it. Aaron flinches when he does, which Neil counts as a win.</p>
<p>“Figured you’d eventually get around to me,” says Aaron gruffly, turning and walking away.</p>
<p>Neil follows. “Well someone took the money.”</p>
<p>“It was probably Gordon.”</p>
<p>“You think Seth stole his own money?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“He could have taken the money before he knew he’d win,” offers Aaron. “He was down to his last chip early on, and no one expected him to beat Andrew on the last hand. He had opportunity.”</p>
<p>“You all had opportunity, from what I hear,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but the difference is, he’s the only one who needs the money.” He glances back at Neil. “If that’s all?”</p>
<p>“One more thing, why put your home brew alcohol in the wide-mouth bottles?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Aaron’s jaw tightens fractionally. “Can you really say it surprises you? You’ve been to the block parties and the backyard bbqs in your neighbourhood. I was being authentic.”</p>
<p>“So it was a throwback to your days of being poor?”</p>
<p>“I like to remind myself how much garbage I’ve left behind.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next Saturday finds Neil back at the Spears’. The house is in the midst of being decorated for the Hallowe’en party Cass is throwing the following day. The sight of pumpkins and skeletons and ghosts reminds Neil that Andrew’s birthday is coming up; the fourth must be on Thursday if Hallowe’en is tomorrow. Then he remembers that he and Andrew aren’t friends and it doesn’t matter to him.</p>
<p>The five poker players are already present when Neil arrives, looking varying degrees of annoyed and bored and happy (the latter is obviously Jeremy). Neil called them all here; he said he’d let them know who stole the money and his fee would be that they’d play another round, Neil taking the place of the thief. He’s kind of excited to have his own Poirot or Sherlock moment where he stalks around the room and throws evidence at all those present.</p>
<p>“Can we get this over with?” asks Aaron as soon as Neil arrives.</p>
<p>“Sure,” says Neil. “First I need a drink.” He grabs Kevin’s bottle of Smirnoff and chugs it; drinking at least a quarter of it before he lets up.</p>
<p>“Damn,” says Seth, impressed.</p>
<p>“It’s water,” says Neil. “He’s only pretending to be drunk so he can lull you into a false sense of security. Not that it helped him.”</p>
<p>“How did you—?” starts Kevin.</p>
<p>“You can’t tie your own shoes when you’ve been drinking, let alone calculate the correct tip for the pizza boy,” says Neil. “Okay, what else? Oh, despite the constant bathroom visits Jeremy’s not a drug addict.”</p>
<p>“Of course I’m not!” says Jeremy.</p>
<p>“Nah, that Sun Tea he’s drinking is a diuretic,” explains Neil. “He’s a wrestler that needed to make weight for a tournament last weekend.”</p>
<p>Jeremy nods easily.</p>
<p>“So maybe our culprit is the obvious,” Neil says, turning to point at Andrew. “He had motive and opportunity. And is full of evil. But alas, Seth cleared him.”</p>
<p>“I did not,” argues Seth.</p>
<p>“If Andrew hid the money in here, he wouldn’t have had to search the room looking for it,” says Neil. “But he ransacked the place. That leaves us Seth and Aaron.” He pauses, while the two of them eye each other. “Y’all want to hear how Aaron did it?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t,” protests Aaron immediately. He’s been getting progressively redder through Neil’s spiel</p>
<p>Neil ignores his outburst. “It was the wide-mouth bottles. The roll of money pops right in, and it’s not like Andrew’s going to clean up this mess, is it? The maid took out the recycling the next morning and Aaron picked it up to sort through at his leisure.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s face doesn’t change expression but it does look a little accusing as he turns on Aaron.</p>
<p>“Why would Aaron do that?” protests Kevin. “He’s richer than all of us.”</p>
<p>“Is he, though?” asks Neil. “Because when I went to his house, his mom answered the door. Like a maid.”</p>
<p>Aaron glares but doesn’t protest.</p>
<p>“Your mom didn’t get married, did she?” says Neil. “She got a job as a live-in maid and you saw an opportunity to lie and become an 09er.” No one says anything. “Andrew must know,” continues Neil, “since I’m betting he’s the one financing your charade. So why steal the money?”</p>
<p>“You guys can’t be believing this,” Aaron urges the others.</p>
<p>“Answer the question,” says Andrew. “Why do you need the money? Is it drugs again?”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not drugs!” explodes Aaron. “Maybe it’s for exactly this reason! Because I don’t want to justify to you every cent I spend. Maybe I just wanted my own money without having to owe you anything.”</p>
<p>Silence falls throughout the room.</p>
<p>“So… my money?” prompts Seth with an edge.</p>
<p>Aaron snarls, throws down a wad of cash on the table, and stomps out of the room. Andrew watches him blankly.</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Neil, grinning around the table. “Who’s ready to lose?” He shuffles the cards.</p>
<p>Seth laughs in disbelief, but Jeremy scoffs. “No way you’re touching the cards,” he says. “Jean told me all about you being a cheating card shark.”</p>
<p>Neil feels the smile slip off his face. Jean knew about his ability to stack decks and hide cards up his sleeve, but he was one of the few who did. He promised Neil he’d never tell anyone. But Neil has evidence he told at least one person: his secret boyfriend.</p>
<p>Does this mean that Jeremy is actually <strong>captain.sunshine</strong>? And if he is, does he know anything about Jean’s murder?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: referenced suicide, referenced murder, referenced homophobia</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil’s eating his breakfast cereal and waiting for the coffee to brew while trying to come up with a good argument to convince his dad to let him miss a couple days of school without explaining why he really wants to. He’s staring blearily into space; the light is blinking on the answering machine. It takes him much longer than he should before he realizes the blinking indicates a message waiting. He presses play and a woman’s voice fills the kitchen.</p><p>“Hey David, it’s Abby,” she says. She sounds vaguely familiar but Neil can’t quite place her. “I’m running a little late for our date; I’ll be there in about half an hour—what am I doing? I’ll just call your cell.”</p><p>The machine clicks off and Neil stares at it in consternation. This is too much for him to handle before his morning coffee.</p><p>His dad clears his throat from behind him, still in his sleep pants and a faded grey t-shirt.</p><p>“Sooo…” says Neil, turning and aiming for a sly smile. “Abby, huh?”</p><p>His dad rubs a hand over his face. “I was going to tell you. I was just waiting until I knew how serious it is. I know it’s strange that she’s your guidance counsellor.”</p><p>“Wait, that was <em>Ms. Winfield</em>?” sputters Neil. No wonder she sounded familiar. He’s been forced to have regular meetings with her since Jean died, to discuss his so-called attitude problems.</p><p>His dad looks at him strangely. “Yeeees,” he says, drawing the word out.</p><p>“I forgot her first name was Abby,” admits Neil. “How do you even know each other?”</p><p>“I had to meet with her about you several times earlier this fall, and we ended up hitting it off.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“If it bothers you—”</p><p>“No,” Neil cuts him off. “I mean, it’s weird because as far as I know you’ve never dated anyone and there’s the whole, ew, old people dating reaction”—his dad huffs in amusement—“and sure, I would have preferred you date someone who <em>isn’t</em> my guidance counsellor, but that’s not up to me. I want you to be happy.”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“Good,” says Neil. “I’ll get used to it. It’s not like I expected you to live like a monk forever because some stranger dropped a kid off on your doorstep.”</p><p>His dad wraps an arm around him. “You’re my son, no matter how I acquired you, and your opinion matters to me,” he says. Neil squirms from all the earnestness. “Plus,” continues his dad, pulling away to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t call Maz a stranger, exactly.”</p><p>Neil freezes.</p><p>“What?” his dad asks, concerned.</p><p>“What did you call my mom?”</p><p>“Maz? Oh, it was her nickname in high school,” explains his dad. “All her friends called her that. I didn’t know her that well, but I was close to… a family friend of hers.” Neil notices the hesitation but he doesn’t call him on it, mind whirring. That means that whoever sent his mother threatening letters was a friend at one point, possibly in high school. Or at least knew her nickname.</p><p>“Neil?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Neil answers automatically, blinking back to the present. “Hey Dad? Remember when I was so supportive of you dating my guidance counsellor? Don’t you think I deserve a reward of some kind?”</p><p>“Oh, no.”</p><p>“I need you to sign a permission form for me to miss class for a couple days while I tour Pan High.”</p><p>“Why do you need to tour Pan High?” asks his dad warily, familiar with Neil’s antics.</p><p>“Potential transfer.”</p><p>His dad raises an eyebrow. “You’re considering transferring?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Neil says, waving him off.</p><p>“Then why—I don’t want to know, do I?” He briefly closes his eyes.</p><p>“Nope!” agrees Neil happily.</p>
<hr/><p>Neil thinks Matt almost has a heart attack when he emerges from Mr. Whittier’s office later that morning with a stamped pass for two days away from class due to a potential transfer. Neil hushes him and assures him that he’s not leaving him, but quietly so none of the admin personnel can hear him admit his lies.</p><p>Matt’s still not totally convinced, but Neil doesn’t have more time; he has to visit all his teachers to get his class assignments and then drive 20 miles inland in order to make the 10 am appointment with Pan High’s Vice Principal that he hastily made this morning.</p><p>Kevin overhearing his conversation with their journalism teacher and trailing him out into the hallway doesn’t help speed things up.</p><p>“You’re transferring?” he asks, sounding scandalized. “But the Pan High Trojans are our biggest rivals.”</p><p>“Yes, why would I ever transfer when I feel so welcome here?” replies Neil sarcastically.</p><p>Kevin looks strangely stricken. “Look, nothing’s set in stone,” sighs Neil, taking pity on him. “I’ve just heard good things from Jeremy and Erik and I thought I’d check it out. It’ll probably affect my GPA too much to switch schools senior year, though.”</p><p>“Okay,” says Kevin nodding. “Um, can I ask you a favour?”</p><p>“Aw, and I thought you were just here to tell me how much you are going to miss me.”</p><p>Kevin opens his mouth, then closes it and shakes his head. “Can you find out who my father is?” he blurts. “My biological one, I mean.”</p><p>“Uh,” says Neil, at a loss for words. “Probably not? Why do you care, anyway? You already have a father.”</p><p>“I’m not looking to replace him,” replies Kevin quickly. “But… just for medical history, you know? It would be good to know what potential illnesses I’m in for.”</p><p>“Or whether you’re going to start balding soon.”</p><p>“I think male pattern baldness is inherited from your mother,” says Kevin with a small smile.</p><p>“In any case,” says Neil, “there’s no way I’ll be able to find him without more information.”</p><p>“Right, but you’re heading to Pan,” says Kevin, talking in a rush. “The only thing I know about my father is something I overheard my mom say once. She was talking on the phone and she didn’t know I could hear her. She made a comment about being a cliche because she was knocked up by her high school boyfriend.”</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil stupidly, “she went to Pan?”</p><p>“Yeah, so I was hoping you could figure out who her boyfriend was?”</p><p>“I can look, but I might not find anything,” cautions Neil.</p><p>“I’d really appreciate it.” Kevin’s face is stupidly earnest.</p><p>“You can show your appreciation with money,” says Neil.</p>
<hr/><p>Pan High seems like it’s on a completely different planet than Palmetto High. Although it’s the closest school, the fact that it’s twenty miles inland means there’s a distinct lack of yacht clubs and million dollar ocean-view homes. Neil’s car fits right in with the other student vehicles, mostly mid-nineties American-made cars.</p><p>He meets with the Vice Principal, a jovial man named Mr. Rhemann, who gives him an overview of the school and a quick tour. “This is very last minute, but I can probably find a student for you to shadow in classes this afternoon,” he offers.</p><p>“I already know a couple students,” says Neil. “If it’s okay, I’d like to go to class with one of them?”</p><p>“Which students?” Mr. Rhemann asks kindly.</p><p>“Um, Erik Klose or Jeremy Knox?”</p><p>Mr. Rhemann smiles. “That would be acceptable.” He makes a call and a couple minutes later a bewildered-looking Jeremy comes into the office.</p><p>“Dad?” he asks. He does a double-take when he catches sight of Neil. “Hey Neil! What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m considering transferring,” says Neil. “I was hoping I could tag along with you today, see what Pan has to offer.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s awesome!” enthuses Jeremy. “Sure thing, come with me.” He ushers Neil out of the office.</p><p>“The Vice Principal’s your dad?” Neil half-whispers on their way out. A quick background check had already told him this, of course, but it made people wary if he knew too much about them for no good reason.</p><p>“Step-dad, actually,” replies Jeremy, “but he’s been married to my mom since I was five and he’s been more of a father than my actual dad. I even legally took his last name, although I don’t use it here.”</p><p>“Ah,” says Neil. “Sometimes sharing your last name with your parents can bring unwanted attention. I get it.”</p><p>“I bet you do, sheriff’s son,” smiles Jeremy knowingly. “Come on, it’s lunch time. I’ll show you the cafeteria.”</p><p>The cafeteria is located indoors, unlike Palmetto High’s exterior courtyard and Neil finds it a little claustrophobic. He’s also getting an uncomfortable amount of attention due to being a stranger hanging out with Jeremy, who Neil assumes is one of the popular kids. Jeremy leads him straight to a table with empty seats. A large number of rowdy people are already eating there, but Neil claims a seat at the end of the table so at least he isn’t surrounded.</p><p>Erik is sitting diagonally across from him. “Neil! What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m considering transferring,” Neil says. “It probably won’t happen because it’s mid-semester, but you got me thinking about it.”</p><p>“I’m sorry Palmetto High is such a shithole,” says Erik, immediately sympathetic.</p><p>“It’s not your fault,” Neil waves him off, feeling oddly defensive of the school he hates while seated among its rivals. “I’ve been having a tough time there since last spring and my initial plan was just to get tough and get even. But maybe tactical retreat isn’t such a bad idea.”</p><p>“It did wonders for my mental health,” nods Erik.</p><p>“Erik,” says a South Asian girl with spiky, purple hair sitting to Erik’s left, elbowing him in the ribs, “introduce us.”</p><p>“We want him to have a good impression of us,” says another girl from across the table. She’s Latina, with red highlights in her hair and a prominent sparkly rainbow across her t-shirt.</p><p>From what Neil knows about Erik and suspects about Jeremy, he guesses that he’s sitting with the school’s queer kids. Glancing farther along confirms his suspicion; most of the kids at the table have buttons with various pride flags on them. Neil feels an unexpected surge of belonging. This would never happen at Palmetto High.</p><p>“This is Laila,” says Erik, indicating Purple Hair, “and Sara. They’re both terrible people.”</p><p>“Well, we should get along then,” says Neil easily. Friendliness and ingratiating himself with others doesn’t come easily or naturally to him, but pretending to be someone else does. And right now he’s playing the part of Neil Who Might Transfer (And Is Also Awesome).</p><p>The conversation rolls easily, the four people surrounding Neil all friendly and enthusiastic about sharing information about their school. Neil manages to steer them into talking about their school email addresses (it’s easy enough to do—he frames it as not wanting to give up his neil.wymack@palmetto.edu address).</p><p>Laila grimaces. “Oh, that’s not fair. Our email addresses are terrible. They basically look like a random jumble of numbers and letters.”</p><p>“They <em>technically</em> make sense, but only if you understand the pattern,” says Jeremy loyally.</p><p>“Right,” snorts Sara. “I’m sure everyone can figure out that 5sma04@panhigh.edu is me without any difficulty.”</p><p>“5sma04?” asks Neil. “How can that possibly be you?”</p><p>“The five stands for the last digit of the year I’ll graduate,” explains Sara. “We’re the class of ‘05 so all the addresses start with 5. Then the letters are my initials and the final two digits are my birthday. Not the month or anything, just the day.”</p><p>“So yours would be 5jk then the day of your birth?” Neil asks Jeremy. He’s pretty sure he’s found <strong>captain.sunshine</strong> but he needs confirmation. He holds his breath.</p><p>“5jkr23. Rhemann, remember? And my birthday is September 23rd.”</p><p>“Hmmm… well 5naw31 is definitely worse than neil.wymack,” muses Neil.</p><p>“Okay, but that’s, like, one area where Palmetto beats us,” argues Laila. “We’re way better in every other way. Come on, I’ll show you. What do you want to see?”</p><p>“Um, I’m supposed to go to class with Jeremy this afternoon?” says Neil.</p><p>“Boring,” chides Laila. “I have study period after lunch. I’ll take you somewhere fun.”</p><p>“Well, uh,” says Neil, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you have old yearbooks in the library? Because a friend of mine offered to pay me if I brought back pictures of his mom’s horrible high school fashions. He wants to bribe her.”</p><p>Laila laughs. “We can definitely do that.”</p>
<hr/><p>It doesn’t occur to Neil until he’s standing staring at a shelf of old Pan High yearbooks that he has no idea how old Kayleigh Day was. He can more or less work out an approximate age: he knows the storied history of DayMo Software, or at least the public version of it. Kayleigh and Tetsuji met when she was an undergraduate and he was a grad student; after she got her degree, they decided to make a go of it with their streaming video idea; he got a loan from his wealthy father; they ended up working in a converted storage facility in Palmetto; Kevin was born before they hit it big in the early nineties, but a couple years after they founded the company. He guesses Kayleigh was in her mid-to-late twenties when she had Kevin.</p><p>He now knows, from the documents in his mother’s safety deposit box, that his mom was born in ‘61; Kayleigh was probably around the same age. That would mean she started here in ‘75 or ‘76 depending on what month she was born. Neil picks the yearbook for ‘77 to be safe. He flips to the index, and sure enough there are a lot of entries for Day, Kayleigh (senior).</p><p>He goes through her pictures, taking note of any guys that seem to be around her a lot. The final picture is from prom, where Kayleigh is crowned Prom Queen. The caption calls her the two-time Prom Queen. Neil goes for the ‘76 yearbook next, going straight to the prom pictures. Kayleigh’s there again, crowned Prom Queen. On her arm is the Prom King, one David Wymack.</p><p>Neil makes a strange noise in his throat that has Laila looking up in alarm. She’s left him to his own devices, kicking her feet up on a desk and playing something on her phone.</p><p>“You okay?” she asks.</p><p>“I’m fine,” replies Neil, coughing a little to dislodge the spit he accidentally inhaled.</p><p>He stares at the picture, hardly believing his eyes. His dad has hair, for one. He’s not completely bald now, but he keeps his hair close-shaven. In the seventies it was horribly shaggy. And the suit he is wearing is maroon and has ruffles. Neil uses his phone to take photographs for evidence and future blackmail.</p><p>He then flips to the index, because he wants to see every single picture of his dad looking like a Flock of Seagulls reject. He’s gotten to the ‘W’s and is scanning down the page, when his gaze lands on something unexpected: Wesninski, Nathan (freshman).</p><p>There are two photos of Wesninski, with one being his class photo. The other is a candid, taken of a group of people. Neil’s eyes find Wesninski unerringly. He’s never really been good at seeing family resemblances (except in the case of identical twins), but this is unmistakable. If it weren’t for the ‘70s hair and clothing styles, it could be a picture of himself.</p><p>He checks the caption on the photo. <em>Pictured (L to R): Romero Malcolm, Mary Hatford, Patrick DiMaccio, Nathan Wesninski, Lola Malcolm</em>. Neil almost tears the page when he reads the names and then forcibly relaxes when Laila gives him a strange look. His parents, Jean’s supposed murderer, and a woman with the initials LM all in the same picture? He doesn’t believe in coincidences and this one certainly means something.</p><p>When the bell finally rings to signal the end of the period, he has more questions than he arrived with, but he thinks in general he was successful in finding out what he needs to. There’s only one final thing he has to do.</p>
<hr/><p>He finagles Jeremy into giving him a tour of the school grounds instead of going to his last period class.</p><p>“So what do you think?” asks Jeremy, taking a seat on the bleachers and waving a hand around to indicate Pan High’s football field.</p><p>“It’s nice,” says Neil, and it is. Not only that, but the people are friendly and welcoming and in general Pan is way better than Palmetto. Despite that, he finds himself missing Matt and Dan.</p><p>“You think you’ll transfer?”</p><p>Neil shrugs and wrinkles his nose. “I’m not sure it’s worth all the trouble for one semester,” he admits.</p><p>Jeremy nods easily. “I get it. It’s too bad, though. You’re a cool guy.”</p><p>“You’re a lot nicer than the popular kids at my school,” says Neil. “If they were anything like you I probably wouldn’t dread going to school every day.”</p><p>“I try.”</p><p>“It’s odd we haven’t met before, though,” continues Neil, “considering you were dating my best friend.”</p><p>The silence is long and awkward. Jeremy slumps down onto the bleachers, his happy go lucky attitude sliding away from him. “You know, huh?”</p><p>“I know a lot of things.”</p><p>“Jean did say you were nosy. He fully expected you to find out sooner rather than later.”</p><p>“Was there any reason he didn’t tell me?” asks Neil, because although it’s not his business it still stings that Jean didn’t trust him with this.</p><p>“Something about his father,” says Jeremy. “He told Jean and Kevin that ‘youthful shenanigans’ were all well and good but that both of them were expected to honour the family. Jean was worried that if he told you you’d realize your relationship with Kevin was doomed.”</p><p>“Would have been nice to have a heads up,” says Neil wryly.</p><p>Jeremy rubs his hands together. “It’s been hard,” he admits. “As far as anyone knows, he and I were old acquaintances. I don’t have any right to grieve.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Neil pauses and takes a deep breath, “...and I’m even more sorry to ask you this, but do you know where he was on the day of his death?”</p><p>“At home, wasn’t he?” asks Jeremy, surprised. “I was annoyed at him because I wanted to do something for Valentine’s Day and he said he couldn’t. I assumed that he didn’t want to risk his dad finding out. It’s so stupid now. I was <em>mad</em> at him when I should have been with him. If I was, maybe he’d still be here.”</p><p>“Or maybe you’d be dead, too,” Neil points out. “He was killed in a botched home invasion.”</p><p>Jeremy looks around furtively. “I don’t believe that,” he almost whispers.</p><p>“Why not?” asks Neil. If he was Backup, his ears would be practically standing up on his head.</p><p>“Um, well, a little over a month before his death? Like, around Christmas time?” says Jeremy. “He went really weird and radio silent for a couple weeks. I assumed he was ghosting me or leading up to dumping me, but he denied it. He said he’d found something big and he was looking into it.”</p><p>“Something big?” repeats Neil. “Like what?”</p><p>“No idea,” shrugs Jeremy. “He refused to give me any more information, saying it was dangerous. All I know is that he was afraid.”</p><p>“Of what?”</p><p>“Whoever or whatever he was looking into,” says Jeremy. “He was afraid of it and I think it’s why he died.” He leans his head on Neil’s shoulder. “I miss him.”</p><p>“Me too,” Neil agrees quietly.</p>
<hr/><p>His dad’s cooking dinner when Neil gets home. He does a quick check for any potential disasters—his dad has more enthusiasm than talent in the kitchen. He can handle microwaving things or heating things up in the oven, but Neil tends to get worried when he’s cooking on the stovetop.</p><p>“How was your day?” he asks when he catches sight of Neil.</p><p>“Pretty good… what are you making?” asks Neil warily.</p><p>“Dad Casserole.”</p><p>Neil mimes vomiting. It’s basically the only thing his dad ever makes and it involves taking all their leftovers and frying them together. “You know, if child services finds out about this, they’ll take me away from you.”</p><p>His dad grins over his shoulder. “It’s got vegetables.”</p><p>Neil spins a finger in the air. “Keep your eyes on it or it will burn.”</p><p>He drops his bag off in his room, scratches Backup behind the ears, and then sets the table. His dad plates the mushy monstrosity, looking absurdly pleased with himself.</p><p>“Don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging my question earlier,” he says, a keen look on his face.</p><p>Neil shrugs and chokes down a bite of his dinner. “Ugh, did you put both the leftover pasta <em>and</em> the leftover mashed potatoes in this?”</p><p>“Neil.”</p><p>“It was fine. I’m not transferring. Oh, hey,” he unlocks his phone and opens it to the picture of his dad as Prom King, “nice hair.”</p><p>His dad chokes on his food. Neil feels a little bad as he thumps himself on the chest and then downs a glass of water. There are still tears streaming from his eyes when he recovers enough to ask, “Did you have to?”</p><p>“Yup,” says Neil. “I was actually looking for Kayleigh Day’s high school boyfriends, and lo and behold there you were.”</p><p>His dad’s eyes narrow. “Why were you looking into Kayleigh’s high school boyfriends?”</p><p>“Cause Kevin thinks one of them is his father,” replies Neil sweetly. “I told him I’d help him figure out which one.”</p><p>“You agreed to help?”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t know you were one of the options when I took the case, now did I?” huffs Neil. “You didn’t think to mention this sooner?”</p><p>“It was a long time ago and it ended badly,” retorts his dad shortly. “What, in twenty years are you going to be telling your kids how you once dated Kevin?”</p><p>Neil feels himself flush. “I didn’t think you knew about that.”</p><p>“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”</p><p>They lapse into silence for a couple moments. “Are you Kevin’s dad?” Neil eventually asks quietly.</p><p>“I don’t know,” sighs his dad. “I asked Kayleigh when I found out she was pregnant and she said I wasn’t.”</p><p>“But there’s a possibility?” presses Neil.</p><p>“Not that it's any of your business, but yes.”</p><p>“But that was years after high school,” argues Neil.</p><p>His dad sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “Our relationship was complicated,” he says, sounding reluctant. “We got together my senior year, her junior, and stayed together until her senior year of college.”</p><p>“That’s five years.”</p><p>“Mostly long distance. After high school, I went to police academy and then I got a job in the Sheriff's department in a small town about 60 miles north of here while Kayleigh went to UCLA. We didn’t see each other all that often, and we grew apart. Plus, once she met Tetsuji, it… well, they weren’t together, but I didn’t like how she acted around him. I barely recognized her. Eventually we were arguing constantly, so we called it quits. I got a job in Palmetto and she moved here independently a couple years later. We ran into each other a couple times, fell into bed together for old time’s sake, but we weren’t even friends anymore. When she got pregnant, I asked if I was the father. She said no and we went our separate ways. She officially got together with Tetsuji before Kevin was even born, and we never spoke again until you and Jean started hanging out, and even then it was only as your respective parents.”</p><p>Neil puzzles through the timeline. “When did Tetsuji divorce his first wife? Jean’s a couple months older than Kevin, but if Kayleigh and Tetsuji got together before Kevin was born…”</p><p>His dad sighs again, this one sounding deeper and sadder. “He didn’t divorce her. She killed herself.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It may have been postpartum or maybe she knew Tetsuji was cheating or on his way to cheating, but she committed suicide when Jean was only a couple weeks old. I remember; I was the primary on the case.”</p><p>“How did she do it?” Neil feels dread creeping along his spine. There’s no such thing as coincidence.</p><p>His dad leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. “Her car was found on the Coronado Bridge. She jumped off it.”</p><p>Neil stares. “You’re telling me that Tetsuji Moriyama’s first wife killed herself in the <em>exact same way</em> that Kayleigh did ten years later?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And nobody finds that suspicious?” Neil can’t control his incredulity.</p><p>“Of course I find it suspicious,” says his dad testily. “I investigated both of their deaths, but I couldn’t find a link and I couldn’t find any evidence that their deaths were anything other than suicide.”</p><p>“No evidence,” Neil echoes.</p><p>“No evidence,” confirms his dad, looking sad and worn out. “I made sure.”</p><p>“I know you did,” says Neil remotely.</p><p>He wonders if there actually was no evidence, or if maybe it was just located somewhere his dad couldn’t access, such as the Day-Moriyama house. What if Aline Moreau and Kayleigh Day had found the same thing that Jean had in the months before his death? Were their suicides arranged somehow? Had Jean found out about it? Were their deaths somehow connected to Jean’s murder?</p>
<hr/><p>His dad gets a call about a potential sighting of a bail jumper after dinner and heads out, leaving Neil to an exciting evening of dishes, homework, and wondering about the connection between everything he found out today. His dad confirmed that the friend of his who knew Neil’s mother was in fact Kayleigh, adding a new link between the Moriyamas and Neil himself.</p><p>He runs the name Lola Malcolm through his PI database to find out where she is now and what’s she’s doing and is not surprised when her employer is listed as DayMo Software. He’ll have to do more digging during work hours.</p><p>His phone rings at a little after nine. He cracks his neck and yawns, picking it up. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Hey, man,” says Matt. “How was going to traitor school today?”</p><p>“For the last time, I’m not leaving you,” says Neil, rolling his eyes. He gets to his feet and heads out to the kitchen, looking for a snack. Shockingly, the Dad Casserole was not particularly satisfying. “I’m not even going to take the second day off; I’ll be back at school tomorrow.”</p><p>“Good,” says Matt. “I missed you.”</p><p>“You have Dan,” replies Neil, letting his voice take on a suggestive tone.</p><p>Matt sighs happily and starts enumerating Dan’s many virtues; Neil mostly tunes him out as he digs through the fridge. Backup makes a strange whining sound and Neil looks up. He gasps as he catches sight of a dark figure looming outside his front door, wreathed in smoke.</p><p>“Neil?” asks Matt instantly. “You okay?”</p><p>The figure turns and the light catches his face. Neil breathes out in relief as he recognizes him, willing his speeding heart to slow down. “Yeah. It’s just a really big bug,” he tells Matt. “Gotta go, see you tomorrow.”</p><p>He tosses the phone on the counter and heads over to push his door open. “Has no one ever told you that loitering is creepy?”</p><p>Andrew slowly exhales smoke through his nose. “Needed a cigarette before I could do this.”</p><p>“Do what?” asks Neil suspiciously.</p><p>“This,” says Andrew, taking a deep breath. “I need your help.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter: reference to childhood sexual assault, reference to non-con, reference to child pornography</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrew fidgets as he waits for Neil’s response. At first, all Neil can do is stare gormlessly; Andrew has made his disdain for Neil’s skills very clear.</p>
<p>He crosses his arms across his chest, feeling oddly exposed in his threadbare t-shirt. “My help?” he echoes.</p>
<p>Andrew flicks his cigarette to the ground and grinds it out with the toe of his incredibly expensive sneaker. “Word is that you’re able to dig up dirt on people using some kind of PI database,” he says. “Plus, I know you’re annoyingly persistent. I need that.”</p>
<p>“For…?” presses Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew cuts his eyes to the side. “Can I come inside?”</p>
<p>“My dad prefers if I don’t let delinquent boys in when he’s not home,” says Neil coldly. “Tell me here.”</p>
<p>Andrew shudders, like a duck shedding water. “Drake,” he forces out.</p>
<p>“Your brother?” asks Neil, intrigued despite himself.</p>
<p>“My parents’ son. Find something incriminating I can use against him.”</p>
<p>“He’s a public figure,” Neil points out. “The odds of him having skeletons in his closet that no one’s ever found are minimal.”</p>
<p>“Then look deeper in the closet,” says Andrew, through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>Neil almost quips something about Andrew being better equipped to find things hiding in the closet than him, but manages to hold his tongue in time. Andrew’s sexuality is something he found out without his knowledge or permission and there’s no way he’s ever going to hold it against him or make light of it.</p>
<p>“There might not be anything to find,” he says instead.</p>
<p>“There is,” replies Andrew ominously. “Find it. Give me your phone.”</p>
<p>Neil blinks at the non sequitur. “What?”</p>
<p>“Your phone. Give it to me. You need to be able to contact me if you find anything.”</p>
<p>“I already have your number unless you changed it recently,” Neil points out.</p>
<p>Regardless, Andrew holds out his hand expectantly. Neil sighs and passes over his phone. Andrew fiddles with it for less than a minute and passes it back without another word before turning and stalking off into the night.</p>
<p>Neil closes the door and chews on his lip. Andrew clearly knows more than he’s letting on, but Neil is well enough aware that if he doesn’t want to say anything, he won’t.</p>
<p>He locks the door and turns; Backup is looking at him questioningly, his head tilted curiously to the side.</p>
<p>“Some guard dog you are,” says Neil affectionately.</p>
<p>He wishes he could explain to the dog that he and Andrew aren’t friends anymore. On second thought, that probably won’t go over well. Backup has always inexplicably been a big fan of Andrew’s and he’d make puppy dog eyes at Neil if he explained their history.</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head at himself and heads back to his bedroom. He clearly needs sleep if he’s considering how to explain his broken friendships to his dog.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Neil!” Kevin practically shouts, waylaying him on his way to his locker the next morning. His enthusiasm draws stares, especially since their fall out is well known. Kevin glances around, suddenly self-conscious, and lowers his voice to an almost-whisper. “Did you find anything?”</p>
<p>Neil pauses beside his locker, before quickly spinning the combination and yanking it open. “I found a couple possibilities,” he says, while shoving the books he needs into his messenger bag. He’s not lying, precisely. He has a short list of guys who Kayleigh may have dated in high school. He’s just not planning on mentioning that his own dad is on the list. “I’ll do some more digging. It may come down to doing DNA tests against any potential matches.”</p>
<p>Kevin nods jerkily. “Okay, okay. Sounds good.” He’s practically jittering in place. “Let me know if I can help at all.”</p>
<p>Neil lifts his half-drunk coffee from his hands. “No more caffeine for you, Energizer Bunny.” He shoves the paper cup into his locker and slams the door.</p>
<p>Without his coffee to grip, Kevin wrings his hands together and then looks supremely awkward, like he doesn’t know what to do next.</p>
<p>“Actually, I do have a favour to ask you, but it’s completely unrelated to all of this,” says Neil, heading toward their journalism class.</p>
<p>“Sure, anything,” says Kevin, looking relieved that Neil’s carrying the conversation.</p>
<p>“My GP retired to Death Valley,” says Neil, “which I know sounds like a euphemism, but I’m completely serious. He moved out there last month.”</p>
<p>Kevin huffs a tiny laugh.</p>
<p>“So I’m in need of a new family physician. Who’s yours? Are they any good?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” blinks Kevin, “yeah, he’s fine. Dr. Slosky? He’s in the book.” He hesitates briefly. “Uh, he’s probably a little out of your price range.”</p>
<p>“We have insurance,” Neil says, surprised that Kevin has enough self-awareness to realize that Neil’s not as wealthy as he is. When they were together it was a constant source of friction: Kevin kept forgetting that Neil couldn’t afford to go on spontaneous trips or buy designer clothes. He wonders where Kevin’s newfound conscientiousness comes from.</p>
<p>Kevin clears his throat. “That’s good.”</p>
<p>Neither of them say anything more.</p>
<p>Neil’s relieved when they finally get to class and head to their separate seats. It shouldn’t be so hard to speak to each other, should it? They used to manage just fine.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil steels himself before heading into his dad’s office, carrying the coffee cup he stole from Kevin earlier. He sets it down on his dad’s desk and takes a step back.</p>
<p>“What’s this?” His dad peers over the top of the reading glasses he hates and rarely wears.</p>
<p>“A sample of Kevin’s DNA,” says Neil, aiming for nonchalant but falling short. “You know, if you were curious.”</p>
<p>His dad sighs.</p>
<p>Neil backs up farther, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not meddling,” he says. “It’s completely your decision. But if you choose not to find out, can you let me know? I’ll have to make up some bullshit to explain to Kevin why I can’t find his father.”</p>
<p>He leaves the office, closing the door behind him. Before it shuts he witnesses his father bury his head in his hands. He sits at the reception desk and stares listlessly for a couple moments before shaking himself out of his stupor. He has things to do.</p>
<p>First things first: he dials the main number for DayMo Software and asks to speak with Lola Malcolm when he connects.</p>
<p>It goes to voicemail, “You’ve reached Lola Malcom, head of security, DayMo Software. Please leave a message.”</p>
<p>Neil hangs up before the beep, trembling because he recognizes the voice. It’s the same one from the recorded voicemail he found in his mother’s safety deposit box.</p>
<p>Okay, so… the head of security at DayMo Software was the one responsible for sending his mother threatening letters. He’s about 99% sure, but he still wants a sample of her handwriting to confirm. He has a couple ideas on how to get it—made slightly more difficult due to the fact that she’ll recognize him so he can’t approach her directly—but he puts that aside for now.</p>
<p>He then looks up Dr. Slosky’s office number and places another call.</p>
<p>“Hi, are you currently taking new patients?” he asks the harried-sounding woman who picks up the phone.</p>
<p>“We are,” she replies. “I can email over our new patient registry forms. I need your name, number, and email address.”</p>
<p>“Excellent,” says Neil, then relays the information. “I was wondering if you have any openings for appointments sometime this week or next? Preferably the latest appointment of the day; I have… band practice after school.”</p>
<p>There’s a brief silence as she presumably checks the schedule; he can hear a mouse clicking in the background.</p>
<p>“You know,” says Andrew dryly, causing Neil to start in surprise. He hadn’t noticed Andrew’s entrance. “Antibiotics will clear that problem right up.”</p>
<p>Neil childishly sticks his tongue out at him.</p>
<p>“We have a cancellation this Thursday,” the receptionist reports, reclaiming Neil’s attention. “4:45 to 5 pm. For what purpose do you need to see the doctor?”</p>
<p>“Frequent migraines,” says Neil, giving Andrew a level look. Andrew simply raises an eyebrow in response.</p>
<p>“Alright, I have you booked in and I’ve emailed off those forms. Make sure to bring them with you as well as proof of insurance or payment.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” says Neil, hanging up the phone. “I have no idea how you snuck up on me,” he tells Andrew, “since usually you’re accompanied by the overpowering scents of fire and brimstone.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s chin juts out. “What have you found?”</p>
<p>“In the approximately ten minutes since you asked me to look for something? Nothing.” Neil shakes his head. “You rich boys aren’t really big on patience are you?”</p>
<p>“I’m on a time limit,” says Andrew. “Drake’s coming home next week and staying until Thanksgiving.”</p>
<p>“And this is your idea of a welcome home present?”</p>
<p>Andrew crosses his arms over his chest.</p>
<p>“Look,” says Neil. “I did a background check, and it was as clean as I suspected. If you have a suggestion of where I should look for this supposed dirt, it’d really speed this up.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s face turns angry but Neil’s recognizes the look as self-directed anger. He waits patiently.</p>
<p>“You should go through his room,” Andrew finally says.</p>
<p>“Is this a big prank where you tell me to snoop in your parents house and I end up arrested for trespassing?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew narrows his eyes. “No. My parents are out of town this weekend; they’ve gone to London to meet with Drake for some awards thing and to bring him home with them. Come over on Sunday, after eleven.” Without giving Neil a chance to argue, he turns on his heel and exits.</p>
<p>“Was that Andrew Spear?” Neil’s dad asks, coming out of his office.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” replies Neil, with a small frown on his face.</p>
<p>“You guys hanging out again?”</p>
<p>“No,” says Neil. “School project.”</p>
<p>“Mhm,” says his dad. “You still got a thing for him?”</p>
<p>Neil scoffs incredulously. “<em>No</em>,” he says. “I’ve <em>never</em> had a thing for him. He’s a spoiled, rich, aggravating asshole.”</p>
<p>“But that’s exactly your type, isn’t it?” his dad asks, with a cheeky grin.</p>
<p>Neil’s mouth drops open and his dad beats a hasty retreat back into his office before Neil can start throwing office supplies at him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil surreptitiously cases the doctor’s office as he’s led to the examination room by a nurse. His plan isn’t particularly well thought through and there’s a chance what he wants to do is impossible. After answering approximately ten thousand health-related questions and getting his blood pressure taken, he’s left alone to change into a paper hospital gown and explore the little room. Luckily, he finds what he’s looking for right away. Now it’s just a matter of timing.</p>
<p>Doctor Slosky drops in to talk with him for about ten seconds. He recommends more sleep and a better diet, and hands over a script for painkillers, before telling Neil to come back in three months if his headaches haven’t improved. Considering Neil made them up, he’s fairly sure they’ll be cured by then. He nods understandingly until the doctor leaves him to get changed into his clothes, telling him to leave as soon as he does. Once he’s alone again, Neil shoves himself into a tiny under-cabinet, thankful he’s as small as he is. Sometimes being shorter and slighter than average has its advantages.</p>
<p>He’s cramped and uncomfortable and he gets a crick in his neck almost instantly. He has no idea how long he’s been hiding, but it seems like it’s been hours. He hears the door of the examination room open and through the crack in the cabinet door he can tell the light in the room’s been turned off. He counts out ten minutes in his head, and then another ten. His back is screaming at him and it’s been a while since he heard any noises coming from the offices so he carefully opens the cabinet door and more or less rolls out.</p>
<p>He holds in a groan and cracks his neck. He massages his legs to return feeling to them and once he can stand without toppling over due to pins and needles, he tiptoes to the door of the examination room and peers out.</p>
<p>The office seems deserted, closed up for the night. He carefully makes his way to the large filing cabinet located behind the reception desk and uses his lock picks to open the drawer labelled A-F.</p>
<p>Flipping through the patient files, he mutters the names under his breath, looking for Kevin’s. He may have told his dad that he was staying out of the DNA testing, but there are other ways for him to find information about who Kevin’s father may be. Also, he wants to know if there’s a particular reason Kevin’s suddenly worried about familial medical history.</p>
<p>“Carlson… Cicaro… Crip… Darcy… DeLay… wait a sec…” There doesn’t seem to be one for Day, Kevin. He shakes his head at himself; Kevin’s probably under Moriyama. He’s about to close the drawer and open up the next one, when he notices the next file. It reads, <em>DiMaccio, Patrick</em>. There’s no way it’s a coincidence that Jean’s supposed killer shares a doctor with Jean’s family. He grabs the file to photocopy.</p>
<p>He opens the next drawer, quickly finding Kevin filed under Moriyama. Tetsuji and his current wife, Asuka, both have files as well. Neil takes all three of them plus DiMaccio’s to the office photocopier, hoping that it’s not password locked. It isn’t. It’s almost as if no one was expecting anyone to break in to copy medical records.</p>
<p>Neil doesn’t have time to read the files as he photocopies them, working as quickly as possible so he can leave. It takes him longer than he’s comfortable with, feeling very exposed standing in the middle of an empty office. If anyone comes in, he won’t have a good excuse to explain his actions.</p>
<p>Finally, he’s copied everything in all the files. He shoves the thick stack of photocopies into his messenger bag and then replaces the files in their proper locations. He relocks both drawers, then heads to the exit. Peeking out the front window tells him no one’s around, so he unlocks the door and leaves, pausing briefly to relock the door with his lockpicks. As he rounds the corner to get to where he parked, he’s feeling pretty good about himself. He’s sure he covered his tracks; no one will know he was here.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil spends some time considering which will annoy Andrew more: arriving way earlier or way later than he decreed. Despite that, eleven o’clock on Sunday morning finds him pulling up the Spears’ driveway, still wondering if this is some sort of elaborate set-up.</p>
<p>He rings the doorbell and hears it peal through the massive house and waits. And waits. He rings it again and is considering leaving when the door is yanked open, revealing Andrew. He’s dressed in his usual black armbands paired with a white tanktop and what look to be black silk pyjama pants. He’s grasping a bottle of whisky in one fist and the smell coming off of him indicates he’s already indulged more than a little.</p>
<p>“Getting an early start, or haven’t stopped from last night yet?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“You’re more tolerable when I’m not sober. That way I can pretend you’re a side effect.”</p>
<p>“Tough luck for you; I’m very real,” responds Neil, rolling his eyes. “Where’s this room you want me to search?”</p>
<p>Andrew wordlessly turns and heads up a flight of stairs. Neil’s never been in this part of the house before; Andrew’s chosen bedroom is clear on the other side of the mansion.</p>
<p>Andrew points down the long hallway and says, “Third door on the right.”</p>
<p>“Is it locked?”</p>
<p>“I trust you can handle that.” He heads back to the stairs.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you going to help? Or supervise?” asks Neil. “I still don’t know what it is you expect me to find.”</p>
<p>Andrew pauses three steps down. “No,” he says, and resumes descending the stairs.</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head and heads down the hall to Drake’s room. It’s not locked, which begs the question why Andrew can’t just do this himself. Neil would suspect a rich boy aversion to self-sufficiency, but Andrew hasn’t always been rich. Besides, his behaviour is strange enough that Neil suspects something more is going on.</p>
<p>Drake’s room is neat, hardly lived in. It makes sense; he’s only been in this house as a visitor since his family moved here. There are awards and certificates and pictures that likely migrated from their home in LA, but it’s mostly impersonal: like a guest room put together by someone who is a fan of Drake’s movies and collects memorabilia.</p>
<p>Keeping in mind Andrew’s request, Neil searches for anything out of the ordinary, like hidden drawers or safes. He finds nothing. It doesn’t take him long to search the entire room and then he goes through it again just to be sure. Shrugging, he leaves, heading down to the first level to find Andrew.</p>
<p>He’s not in his own room, but out in the pool house that was the scene of Neil’s victorious poker win. He doesn’t understand why Kevin claimed that Andrew is completely unreadable; sure he’s good at keeping a neutral expression, but Neil’s never had an issue reading his tells.</p>
<p>Andrew is playing some kind of car racing game on his Xbox while periodically taking swigs from his bottle of whisky; based on the way his car is weaving on the screen it seems that driving impaired is just as bad an idea in a virtual setting than it is in real life. He doesn’t acknowledge Neil’s presence.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” announces Neil. “Anywhere else you’d like me to look?”</p>
<p>Andrew’s car flips upside down on the screen and he pauses his game. He takes a large gulp of whisky and stares straight ahead at the screen. “Maybe the pool house.”</p>
<p>Neil glances around. “You mean where we are right now? Didn’t you tear this place apart looking for the money Aaron stole?”</p>
<p>“The other pool house.”</p>
<p>“You have more than one pool house?” says Neil incredulously.</p>
<p>Andrew gives him a look over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” says Neil insincerely, “I didn’t mean to confuse you for one of those poor families who only have <em>one</em> pool house.” He glances out the floor-to-ceiling windows towards the sparkling pool. “Where is it, anyway? Or do you have a second pool hidden away, too?”</p>
<p>“East,” says Andrew, jerking his head in the proper direction. “It’s secluded. More of a guest house, really.”</p>
<p>Now that Andrew’s mentioned it, Neil can see a stone pathway leading away from the pool deck to the east, into a stand of trees. The eastern half of the Spears’ property is covered with cultivated trees, likely for privacy. Neil follows the path into the wooded area.</p>
<p>Andrew was right that it is secluded; it takes Neil several minutes to make the trek out to the second pool house. Unlike the other one, the walls aren’t made of glass and although there are windows, they’re all kept tightly shuttered. Neil wonders if the place is objectively as eerie as it seems, or if Andrew’s clear aversion to it has coloured his thoughts.</p>
<p>This door is locked but luckily not alarmed. The atmosphere inside is oppressive and stuffy; clearly no one has been in here for some time. It’s a single, large room, with a kitchenette in the corner with a mini-fridge, microwave, and sink. There’s also a small bathroom attached to one side of the room. The walls are lined with display cases and bookshelves and a large dresser. The majority of the room is taken up by a California king-size bed.</p>
<p>Neil flicks the switches on the wall to turn on the lights and the ceiling fan to clear the stuffiness; although the lights work, the fan stays stubbornly still. He gingerly toes off his shoes and steps onto the comforter covering the mattress, looking up at the fan for an indication on how to turn it on. There don’t seem to be any manual controls, but he notices a strange glint in the centre of it.</p>
<p>He cocks his head to get a better look and determines it’s actually a small camera. Pointing directly down at the bed.</p>
<p>“Ugh,” he mutters in disgust.</p>
<p>He follows the path of the wiring from where it’s encased in molding along the ceiling. It disappears behind one of the cabinets. Neil pokes around a little until he finds a little button on the underside of the overhang. Pushing it unlocks something and he’s able to slide the two halves of the cabinet apart. He feels like he’s in a spy movie.</p>
<p>Hidden behind the cabinet is a wall-mounted television, showing a closed-circuit feed from the camera in the fan. Neil steps back onto the bed and waves his hand and sure enough the feed is live. Below the television is a VCR, likely able to record anything from the live feed.</p>
<p>“Again, ugh,” mutters Neil. There’s a tape sticking out of the VCR. It reads, <em>Cassidy 2003</em>. Neil figures that sex tapes are probably good blackmail material, but he has to ensure that it’s actually a sex tape and that it’s Drake’s, not any of the other Spears. With distaste and trepidation, he pushes the tape into the VCR and hits play.</p>
<p>After the initial static, the picture revolves to show a young boy sitting on the bed, facing in the direction of the television cabinet. He’s maybe 10 or 11, and he’s wearing a <em>Palmetto Spears</em> baseball t-shirt like the ones the kids were wearing when Neil went to see Dan coach little league.</p>
<p>“All set,” says a deep voice from off-camera. “It’s time for you to get ready now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t—” says the boy, his voice high and frightened.</p>
<p>“Ah,” chides the man, “you know what happens if you resist. You know I’ll make it hurt more.”</p>
<p>The boy hangs his head and slowly begins taking off his shirt.</p>
<p>Drake, not wearing anything, his distinctive tattoos on display, comes into frame.</p>
<p>Neil almost breaks the VCR in his effort to stop the playback. He hugs his stomach, feeling like he’s going to be sick. He takes deep breaths to stave off vomiting. This is much worse than he was imagining. This isn’t simply blackmail, this is evidence of a crime. He slides open the cabinet below the VCR and finds a shelf of labelled videos, each with a name and a year, going back to the mid-nineties, far before the Spears came to Palmetto. He almost vomits when he sees them. Does Andrew know about this? He must at least have some inkling since he sent Neil searching for evidence. He must just not have known where Drake kept the evidence.</p>
<p>He looks around the room for something to carry them in, opening cupboards and closets. He finds a duffel bag and returns to the television, ejecting the tape he witnessed and then sweeping the others into the bag. The oldest ones, at the bottom of the stack are labelled, <em>AJ 1996</em>.</p>
<p>Neil collapses backwards, landing on his ass. Several pieces of information come together in his head: The one time he met Drake who laughingly said, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, AJ?” while Andrew insistently ushered him out of the house; Andrew saying, “I’m too old to be interesting to him.”; Andrew’s initial resistance to meeting Aaron until they were both older; Drake being Andrew’s Big Brother and convincing his parents to adopt him; Drake’s involvement in youth sports and activities.</p>
<p>Neil drops his head between his knees to get rid of the spots that have taken over his vision. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, breathing in and out in the way his dad taught him to help with his panic attacks. When he’s finally recovered enough to stand he finishes packing the duffel bag with every scrap of evidence.</p>
<p>He diligently covers his tracks, setting the room back to the exact way it was before his entrance, then hurries down the path back to the main house. It feels like years have passed since he walked this path before. Like the entire world shattered apart and was put back together in a new formation.</p>
<p>He bursts into the pool house. Andrew has turned off his game and has completely drained his bottle of whisky. He takes one look at Neil and his face goes hard.</p>
<p>“Found some videos,” says Neil, his voice hoarse as if he’s been screaming. “I saw just enough of one to know what they are.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s hand trembles slightly.</p>
<p>“I don’t have to tell you, though, do I?” asks Neil. “There’s a couple tapes with your name on them. You know exactly what they show.”</p>
<p>Andrew makes an aborted grab at the bag. Neil steps back.</p>
<p>“Give them to me,” says Andrew forcefully.</p>
<p>Neil’s never been afraid of him but he can see the danger in him now. He hands over the duffel.</p>
<p>Andrew throws it to the floor and digs through it, taking out the stack of videos labelled <em>AJ</em>, laying them out next to the duffel. He stares at them for a beat before letting out an inhuman growl of anger and attacking them with a knife pulled from one of his armbands. He falls on the tapes labelled with his nickname, stabbing the plastic and pulling out and tearing the ribbon, until all that remains is a pile of broken plastic.</p>
<p>He’s panting heavily by the time he’s done, kneeling on the floor with his face twisted into a grimace. He looks up at Neil, unfathomable anger in his eyes. “Get out,” he snarls.</p>
<p>Neil goes.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil doesn’t know what exactly he expects to happen, but it’s not complete silence. Andrew isn’t at school all week. Neil finds himself drifting, his thoughts constantly returning to Andrew. His sleep is disturbed enough that his dad notices the dark bags under his eyes and gives him a curfew of nine pm.</p>
<p>In order to distract himself, he peruses the medical records he stole. Tetsuji’s doesn’t show anything of interest, but Asuka apparently had a miscarriage about a month after Jean’s murder. He doesn’t like thinking about Tetsuji having sex, but the information is interesting because it gives Asuka a motive. Any child she had was going to be Tetsuji’s second biological child. It’s mercenary, and Neil thinks it’s unlikely, but there is the possibility that she bumped off Jean to make way for her own flesh and blood.</p>
<p>Patrick DiMaccio’s record is very informative. He was diagnosed with stomach cancer several months before Jean’s death and he’d exhausted all treatment options less than two weeks before an anonymous tip fingered him as the murderer and he confessed. He’s dying; he only has months left. He has nothing to lose but likely something to gain. Neil has to find out what.</p>
<p>He saves Kevin’s file for last. He notes his blood type (O+) which doesn’t exclude Neil’s dad as his biological father, and laughs at the note early on in the file that states bribing him with lollipops to give him vaccines didn’t work but brought on a lecture about the evils of too much unrefined sugar. He was prescribed anti-anxiety meds after his mother died and anti-depressants after Jean did. The anti-depressants caused the extreme apathy that Neil noted earlier in the school year; Kevin decided to go off of them near the end of September, around the time of the school council elections, which explains his increased engagement with life lately.</p>
<p>A large portion of the most recent entries have to do with something called Type IV Epilepsy. Kevin was diagnosed about a year and a half ago, shortly after he and Neil started dating. According to his file, he had an episode around the time Jean was murdered.</p>
<p>Neil doesn’t know anything about the disease and information online is spotty and suspect. He assumes that Kevin suffers from seizures of some sort, but he’s never seen evidence of them. He’s not entirely sure where he can find more information, short of asking Kevin outright. That method might raise Kevin’s suspicions, though. He’ll have to come up with a better idea.</p>
<p>“Neil!” his dad calls from the living room. It’s Saturday evening and his dad isn’t out chasing bail jumpers for once.</p>
<p>Neil shoves the medical records in a folder and locks them in his desk drawer before padding out in his pyjamas out to see what his dad wants. “What’s up?”</p>
<p>“Movie?” asks his dad hopefully.</p>
<p>“Not <em>Die Hard</em>,” replies Neil instantly.</p>
<p>“But it’s almost December.”</p>
<p>“No Christmas movies until December. It’s your rule.”</p>
<p>“<em>Die Hard</em> isn’t really a Christmas movie,” protests his dad.</p>
<p>“It was a Christmas movie when we watched it three times last December,” Neil points out. “You can’t have it both ways. Pick something else.” He heads into the kitchen to ready some microwave popcorn.</p>
<p>He hears his dad grumble something about ungrateful children as he switches on the television. Neil shoves the popcorn in the microwave and scratches Backup behind the ears as he waits for it to pop.</p>
<p>“Neil,” says his dad, his tone serious.</p>
<p>“What?” asks Neil, looking up in concern. He hasn’t done anything lately to get in trouble (stealing medical records notwithstanding).</p>
<p>His dad’s attention’s on the television, watching a news report. Neil wanders over and sees the headline, <em>Drake Spear Charged With Sex Crimes Involving Minors</em>.</p>
<p>“Good,” says Neil viciously.</p>
<p>“Did you know about this?” his dad asks, his gaze sharp. “Did he ever—”</p>
<p>“No,” Neil cuts him off. “I had no clue.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter: reference to Drake's arrest, drug smuggling, reference to drug use and past overdose</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil’s ringtone jerks him out of sleep on the Friday after Thanksgiving. He groans and rolls over, checking the time on his digital clock as he does so. 3:42am.</p>
<p>“This had better be an emergency,” he says into the phone.</p>
<p>“Hey buddy,” says Matt, sounding extremely sheepish. “I need you to pick me up.”</p>
<p>“You okay?” asks Neil, concerned. He sits up and stretches. Beside him Backup grunts and spreads out into Neil’s vacated space.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m fine,” Matt assures him. “Just… stranded.”</p>
<p>“Stranded where?”</p>
<p>“Umm… at a Denny’s off of Highway 5. In San Diego.”</p>
<p>Neil rubs his eyes. “What are you doing there?”</p>
<p>“...Coming back from Tijuana.”</p>
<p>Neil sighs. “Okay. It’s going to take me a couple hours to get there.”</p>
<p>“You’re a lifesaver, Neil!” says Matt. “Also, I’m with Nicky Hemmick and Aaron Minyard and they’ll need rides, too.”</p>
<p>“Great,” says Neil insincerely. He snaps his phone closed and climbs out of bed. “See, this?” he says to Backup. “This is why it’s easier to not have friends.”</p>
<p>Backup only snores in response.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A little less than two hours later, Neil pulls up into a nearly-deserted, dark parking lot. He spots Matt right away, sitting on a curb staring blankly. Aaron’s beside him, head in his hands, while Nicky paces in front of them, pulling at his hair frantically so it’s standing up in all directions.</p>
<p>“Dude,” calls Neil, rolling down his window, “where’s your car?”</p>
<p>Matt does not look amused at Neil’s amazing wit.</p>
<p>“Oh, Neil, thank God,” says Nicky, turning to him immediately. “We need your help.”</p>
<p>“And here I am,” replies Neil.</p>
<p>“No, more help.” Nicky starts toward the car to get into it, stopping when Matt clears his throat pointedly. Nicky pauses and then clambers into the tiny backseat, Aaron following him.</p>
<p>“It’ll probably be a little cramped back there,” says Neil, completely unrepentant.</p>
<p>“No different than going anywhere with Andrew,” mutters Aaron.</p>
<p>“So,” says Neil jovially as Matt gets into the car, “whatcha doin’ in Tijuana?”</p>
<p>“It’s not what you think,” says Matt, his face set like stone.</p>
<p>Neil’s never seen him like this. He falters in his teasing. “I don’t think anything,” he says as neutrally as possible. “I just didn’t know you were friends with these two monkeys.” He pulls his car back on the highway to head north.</p>
<p>Matt glares out the window. “It sounded like fun.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Neil, deciding to drop it. Matt’s obviously tired and stressed. He glances in the rearview mirror to catch Nicky’s eye. “What did you need my help with?”</p>
<p>Nicky exhales gustily. “Okay, so, Andrew, Aaron, and I have, like, a cousins bonding trip to Tijuana a couple times a year, right? Usually for long weekends or around holidays, like Thanksgiving or Easter. Anyway, we planned this a couple months ago, way before Andrew’s… uh… family troubles,” he says delicately, as if Drake’s arrest is a little known event, instead of something that’s been splashed across tabloids and legitimate news sources alike for over two weeks.</p>
<p>Andrew hasn’t been back at school since Neil found the tapes. Gossip places him with his parents who are currently in LA “supporting Drake through this difficult time”. Neil wonders if he’ll return to Palmetto soon; the most recent news is that Drake was denied bail due to the seriousness of his crimes and his money making him a flight risk.</p>
<p>“You and Aaron went anyway,” supplies Neil.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I mean, why not? The Kloses are all away visiting family for Thanksgiving and Tijuana’s a good time.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” says Neil noncommittally. He has no experience and he doesn’t want any.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” continues Nicky, “neither Aaron nor I have a car, so I borrowed Andrew’s. In fact, he practically insisted, which is strange cause he usually doesn’t let other people drive it. And when we came out of Denny’s it was gone.”</p>
<p>“Did you lock it?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Nicky opens and then closes his mouth with a grimace. “Please, Neil. You have to find that car before Andrew gets back and slices off all my skin.”</p>
<p>Neil glances over to Matt, who’s still uncharacteristically closed off and unhappy.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he says. “But you owe me at least two free pizzas. And garlic sticks.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil gets his dad to ask his various contacts to keep an eye out for Andrew’s car, while reaching out to his own few contacts. By Monday there’s been no sign of it, which is disheartening but not particularly surprising. The likelihood of finding the car intact decreases the longer it’s missing.</p>
<p>Midway through the day, Aaron grabs him by the elbow and drags him into an empty classroom.</p>
<p>“Well?” he says expectantly. “Did you find it yet?”</p>
<p>“Give it time,” says Neil, more than a little taken aback. He didn’t expect Aaron to care at all; he certainly didn’t seem to during the ride home.</p>
<p>“I don’t have time,” hisses Aaron. “If you don’t find that car soon, I’m going to be killed.”</p>
<p>Neil rolls his eyes. “Andrew’s not going to <em>kill you</em>.”</p>
<p>“Not Andrew,” says Aaron, shaking his head. “Someone else.”</p>
<p>“Who else possibly cares?”</p>
<p>Aaron sets his jaw. “I had a piñata in the car,” he says.</p>
<p>“Okay…”</p>
<p>“Filled with steroids.”</p>
<p>Neil stares at him. “Drug smuggling? Classy. Sorry, but I don’t help dealers recover their product.” He scoffs in disgust and moves to leave.</p>
<p>Aaron blocks his path. “I’m not a dealer, I was just moving the product across the border.”</p>
<p>“That’s not better.”</p>
<p>“I really needed the money,” says Aaron. “And now I’m definitely going to be murdered by a ‘roided up asshole if you don’t find the car.”</p>
<p>Neil chews his lip. He doesn’t particularly like Aaron but he also doesn’t want him to be beaten to a pulp. “If I help you get the drugs back, you have to return them and get your money back.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t you righteous,” sneers Aaron. “He’s still going to destroy me even if I pay him back.”</p>
<p>“Let me take care of that,” says Neil. “In the meantime, start thinking up ways to get the money if I don’t find the car. It might be gone for good.”</p>
<p>“Where do you propose I find $5000 lying around? You <em>do</em> remember my mother’s a housekeeper, right? You’re the one who exposed that lie.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, Aaron!” says Neil in exasperation. “This problem was caused by your own terrible life choices. Deal with it.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Did you know that Aaron was smuggling drugs over the border?” Neil asks Matt as he takes a seat at their lunch table. It’s just the two of them today; Dan has school council duties.</p>
<p>Matt throws his sandwich down in anger. “<em>No</em>,” he says forcefully.</p>
<p>“Oookay…” says Neil, not quite knowing what to do.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know about the drugs,” insists Matt, glowering. “That’s not why I went. I have a couple classes with Nicky and he’s a cool guy. I was trying to branch out and make new friends. Or is that not allowed?”</p>
<p>“Of course it’s allowed,” says Neil defensively. “I didn’t say anything.”</p>
<p>“You accused me of drug trafficking.”</p>
<p>“I only asked if you knew Aaron was,” Neil protests. He has no idea how this conversation got so out of control.</p>
<p>“Well I don’t do that anymore, so you can keep your opinions to yourself.”</p>
<p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” scoffs Matt. “You know everything about everyone. You must have read my permanent file.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t,” says Neil, stung. “You’re my friend.”</p>
<p>Matt shrugs, still obviously irritated. “You know what? I think I’m going to eat lunch with someone else. See you later.” He packs his stuff up and gets to his feet.</p>
<p>“Matt…” says Neil helplessly.</p>
<p>Matt ignores him and walks away.</p>
<p>“Yo, Shortbus!” calls Seth, approaching as Neil watches Matt storm away feeling a familiar ache of loneliness. “You guys break up?” he asks in mock sympathy.</p>
<p>“Fuck off, Seth,” says Neil tiredly, not wanting to deal with him. He has no idea what’s got Matt so upset and now all he wants to do is steal his permanent file; however, he doesn’t think that’ll solve anything. He wonders if he just lost another friend because of something beyond his control.</p>
<p>“I thought you might want to know I got a line on that black GT you asked me to keep an eye out for, but if you’d prefer I fuck off…”</p>
<p>“No, wait,” says Neil, turning to him. “You found the car?”</p>
<p>Seth makes a so-so gesture. “I think it passed through my uncle’s junkyard,” he says. “I was planning on asking him after school, if you want to tag along.”</p>
<p>“Aw, Seth are you asking me on a date?” Neil coos. “Maybe we can go to winter formal together.”</p>
<p>“You wish,” says Seth easily, not bristling in irritation as he would have only months previously. “I know you want a piece of this but I’m strictly no homo.”</p>
<p>Neil snorts and shakes his head. It occurs to him that he and Seth have become something like friends. Granted, their relationship is completely built on doing each other favours, but Seth hasn’t called him a slur in months.</p>
<p>“You can owe me a favour,” says Seth magnanimously.</p>
<p>“You still owe me one, from that background check I did for you two weeks ago,” Neil corrects.</p>
<p>“I thought that was in exchange for dealing with the pizza mugger?”</p>
<p>“Nope.”</p>
<p>“I’m <em>sure</em> it was.”</p>
<p>“After this we’re even again.”</p>
<p>Seth narrows his eyes. “If you say so.”</p>
<p>Neil smiles back guilelessly.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil finds that he doesn’t like travelling on the back of a motorcycle. Not even picturing his dad’s horror if he could see him helps. It seems to take forever before Seth’s pulling into a junkyard a couple miles outside of town.</p>
<p>“<em>Uncle</em>!” he calls out in Spanish as he climbs off the bike. Neil follows and removes his helmet, making sure to keep his face looking puzzled so they won’t realize he understands what they’re saying.</p>
<p>An older man wipes his hands on a rag and approaches, eyeing Neil warily. “Seth,” he says. Then, continuing in Spanish, “<em>Who have you brought here</em>?”</p>
<p>“This is Neil,” replies Seth. “He’s the one who got me out of jail.”</p>
<p>“<em>I hear you got yourself put in jail by taking the fall for a rich white girl. Stupid.</em>”</p>
<p>Seth shrugs but doesn’t concede. “He’s looking for a black GT, should have come through on Thanksgiving. You see it?”</p>
<p>“<em>I saw it</em>,” admits his uncle. “<em>Tell your friend that the client has the receipt and registration in order, just like all my clients. This is a legal business, you know</em>.”</p>
<p>“<em>Of course</em>,” replies Seth, switching to Spanish himself, “<em>but what actually happened to it?</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>Guy paid extra for us to reduce it to its component parts instead of selling it off whole</em>,” says his uncle.</p>
<p>“<em>Know who sold it</em>?”</p>
<p>“<em>White guy. Short. Didn’t ask, don’t care.</em>”</p>
<p>“Alright, thanks,” says Seth, pulling his uncle into a back slapping hug. He turns to Neil. “Car’s not here.”</p>
<p>“Ask him if anyone found a piñata in the car,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“<em>No,</em>” answers Seth’s uncle. “<em>I would have taken it for Maria’s birthday if there was. You better come bring your niece a gift.</em>”</p>
<p>“<em>I will</em>,” promises Seth.</p>
<p>“<em>And nephew? Don’t bring strangers to my yard again.</em>” Seth’s uncle stalks away from them.</p>
<p>“No piñata,” Seth tells Neil. “The car was—”</p>
<p>“Chopped, yeah,” interrupts Neil. “Guess Andrew’s not getting it back.”</p>
<p>“Watch me cry a tear for a rich boy losing his ride,” says Seth.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After getting Seth to drop him back at his car, he calls Nicky as he drives to his dad’s office.</p>
<p>“Car’s gone,” he says succinctly as soon as Nicky answers.</p>
<p>“What? No!” cries Nicky despondently. “Andrew’s gonna murder me.”</p>
<p>“You should be more worried about your other cousin getting literally murdered,” says Neil mercilessly. “I don’t have his number, so I need you to tell him that his merchandise isn’t recoverable.”</p>
<p>Nicky groans. “I told him it was a stupid idea. Where the fuck is he going to find $5000?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Borrow it? Sell something? That’s his problem.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay,” says Nicky. “Thanks for trying.”</p>
<p>Neil hangs up as he pulls into his regular parking space, hurrying into his dad’s office.</p>
<p>“Hey, dad, sorry I’m late!” he calls. “I was just—” He cuts himself off when he catches sight of Matt sitting on the couch in the reception area. “Hey,” he says stupidly, coming to a halt.</p>
<p>“Hey,” replies Matt, looking uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“I’m—” starts Neil, just at the same moment that Matt says, “Here’s—” They both break off and laugh sheepishly.</p>
<p>“You first,” says Neil, putting his messenger bag on his desk and leaning back against it.</p>
<p>“I did that thing you asked me to,” says Matt, handing over a clipboard. Pinned to it are about fifty entries to win a free appointment at an upscale salon downtown, the top one filled out by Lola Malcolm. Neil spent some time tailing her the last few weeks and came up with a way to get a sample of her handwriting. Matt agreed to haunt the strip mall on the day of one of her regular hair styling appointments, approaching everyone with the chance to enter a contest. Neil’s grateful that the plant worked.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he says, setting aside the clipboard to compare the handwriting to the letters sent to his mother later. “This is going to be a terrible apology because I’m still not completely sure what I did to upset you, but I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Matt shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything. I overreacted.”</p>
<p>“I obviously said <em>something</em> wrong.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s just—” Matt sighs heavily, then pulls out a file from his bag and hands it over.</p>
<p>Neil glances at it. “This is your permanent file.”</p>
<p>“Good. It would be embarrassing if I gave you someone else’s.”</p>
<p>“I don’t need to see this,” Neil protests.</p>
<p>“I want you to,” says Matt.</p>
<p>“I… okay,” says Neil. “If you’re sure.” He flips through it quickly. He finds the part that Matt’s nervous about almost instantly. He was kicked out of three schools in the past two years, all for drug use and distribution.</p>
<p>“I don’t do that anymore,” Matt says when Neil silently closes the file. “When I was living with my dad… he was an addict himself and he didn’t care what I got my hands on. My mom found out about it when I overdosed and she instantly took me away from him and got me into rehab. Once I got out, we moved here for a fresh start.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Neil, handing the file back. “Thank you for telling me.”</p>
<p>“That’s it?” asks Matt, taken aback.</p>
<p>“What else needs to be said?” counters Neil. “You’re my friend. If you tell me you’re not that guy anymore, I believe you.”</p>
<p>Matt loses some of the tension from his shoulders. “Okay, good.” He relaxes a little further. “So, what’s new with you? Find Andrew’s car yet?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Wednesday is deja vu as Aaron drags Neil into an empty classroom by his elbow. “Got the money,” he says in a pseudo-whisper. He hands over an envelope with cash.</p>
<p>Neil whistles as he thumbs through it to count it. “How’d you manage that?”</p>
<p>Aaron grimaces. “I sold a Barry Bonds autographed ball on Ebay,” he says.</p>
<p>Neil stares blankly. “Is that… baseball-related?”</p>
<p>“How can you never have heard of—” Aaron practically shouts before cutting himself off and shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Luddite. It was Nicky’s. He’s all whiny because it was one of the only things he took from his parents’ house—apparently it was a reminder of a good day he had with his dad.” His nose wrinkles in disgust. “Good riddance, I say. He doesn’t need any reminders of that sack of shit.”</p>
<p>“That would almost be sweet if you weren’t personally benefiting from it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck off.”</p>
<p>“Before or after I save your skin?” snarks Neil.</p>
<p>“Look, if you can stop that psycho Hawking from murdering me, I’ll be grateful, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”</p>
<p>“The feeling is mutual,” says Neil, taking the money and heading out of the classroom. “I’ll text Nicky when it’s done.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil, with Backup as backup, heads into Hawking’s Gym, a small downtown location that smells of sweat and testosterone. From Aaron’s description it doesn’t take him long to single out the proprietor: he’s a good six and a half feet tall and thickly muscled—he’s basically a walking, talking steroid himself. He lives up to his nickname of Gorilla.</p>
<p>“Hi,” says Neil brightly. “I’m here on behalf of Aaron Minyard.”</p>
<p>Gorilla stalks forward, pointing threateningly at Neil’s chest. “You tell that little—” Backup growls a warning when he gets almost within arm’s reach of Neil. Gorilla eyes the fierce-looking black pit bull. “No dogs allowed.”</p>
<p>“He’s a service dog,” says Neil, indicating his yellow vest. “Are you telling me that you discriminate against people with disabilities?” He pitches his voice loud enough that some of the other gym members turn to look at him.</p>
<p>“Maybe we can take this into the office?” asks Gorilla tightly.</p>
<p>“I’m happy here,” says Neil. He shoves the envelope full of money at him. “Here. This is the $5000 you fronted Aaron to get your steroids. He’s not going to do that, so take the money and leave him alone.”</p>
<p>“I’ll take the money, but we’re not square. That little bitch let me down and I’m gonna make him pay.”</p>
<p>“You’re going to regret you said that.” Neil slides a hand into his pocket and sends the waiting text message on his phone to Matt. It instantly starts ringing. Neil takes it out of his pocket and uses the opportunity to snap a picture of Gorilla’s face before answering.</p>
<p>“Hi, Matt. Everything’s fine. I’m on my way out now.” He snaps his phone closed and gives Gorilla a sunny smile. “I’m glad we’ve worked that out.”</p>
<p>Gorilla takes a threatening step forward and Backup barks in warning. “We’re not finished here.”</p>
<p>“We are,” says Neil. He heads for the exit, but he just can’t quite stop himself from turning back, “May I just say that your muscles are very impressive?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Gorilla, clearly confused. “Thank you?”</p>
<p>“Yup. And with all the steroids as you took to get them, your balls must be <em>tiny</em>.” He and Backup flee.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After sending border security the picture he took of Gorilla and identifying him as a known drug smuggler, which will certainly get him caught the next time he tries to cross the border, Neil settles in for some tedious research.</p>
<p>He’s been trying to find the money that Patrick DiMaccio <em>must</em> have received in order to confess to Jean’s murder but he’s so far not been having any luck. Financial record searches of DiMaccio and his parents haven’t turned anything up, and he wasn’t married. He’s frowning at his laptop when Andrew wanders into the Wymack Investigations office. Neil’s grateful for the distraction.</p>
<p>Andrew’s almost making an expression of discomfort, possibly thinking about the last time they saw each other. Neil’s not quite sure what to say, either. Finally Andrew breaks their stalemate by shoving a cheque at Neil.</p>
<p>“Here,” he says stiffly. “Your fee.”</p>
<p>Neil stares at it for a couple seconds. He wonders if he should be torn; Andrew’s just handed him quite a lot of money that he can definitely use. He’s not. He tears the cheque into confetti. “I don’t need to be paid for that.”</p>
<p>Andrew gives him an intense stare which Neil matches. They come to an unspoken understanding and the tension between them snaps.</p>
<p>“So,” says Neil, leaning forward and grinning smugly, “you stole your own car.”</p>
<p>Andrew crosses his arms and looks away. “How did you figure it out?”</p>
<p>“I’m crafty,” says Neil. At Andrew’s unimpressed look, he ticks off his reasoning on his fingers, “You insisted Nicky take your car and a short man paid extra to demolish it so it couldn’t be found. I wasn’t completely sure, but then you just confirmed it. What I don’t get is why you did it.”</p>
<p>“Aaron was smuggling drugs.”</p>
<p>“So, what? Instead of having a conversation with him like a normal person you arranged for the drugs to be stolen and him to fear for his life?” asks Neil incredulously.</p>
<p>Andrew doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.</p>
<p>“That’s insane,” protests Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew shrugs.</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head. “What did you do with the steroids?”</p>
<p>“They are somewhere between my toilet and the ocean.” Andrew fidgets. “Do you want to see my new car?”</p>
<p>Neil blinks at the subject change. “Yeah, okay.”</p>
<p>He follows Andrew out of the office. Parked ostentatiously to take up three spots is a shiny, black car that honestly looks a lot like Andrew’s previous car.</p>
<p>“It’s a Maserati,” says Andrew, a hint of pride in his voice. He proceeds to go over all the specs of the car while Neil nods along, pretending to be interested and hiding a grin at Andrew’s enthusiasm leaking past his studied blankness.</p>
<p>Andrew uses his key fob to open the car and practically ushers Neil into the passenger seat, before getting in the driver’s seat and pointing out all the features he likes. “Plus, it goes really fast,” he finishes.</p>
<p>“Show me,” says Neil.</p>
<p>It seems to be what Andrew was waiting for, as he puts the car into reverse and backs out of the spot.</p>
<p>“Did you steal the car yourself or did you hire someone to do it?” asks Neil. “How’d you even know they’d stop at that Denny’s?”</p>
<p>“They always stop at that Denny’s,” replies Andrew. “And I wasn’t always rich. You think I don’t know how to steal a car.”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes, I forgot about your formative years running around LA stealing hubcaps.”</p>
<p>“Hubcaps? What are we, in the seventies? I stole rims.”</p>
<p>“So what you’re saying is, you’re experienced at rim jobs.”</p>
<p>Andrew revs the engine by accident and cuts his eyes at Neil. Neil blinks innocently at him.</p>
<p>“Okay, but you can at least explain your reasoning?” Neil eventually asks, not willing to let it go yet. “Aaron could have been badly beaten.”</p>
<p>“I would have stopped it, if you hadn’t.”</p>
<p>“Right, but this way Nicky lost something he treasured.”</p>
<p>Andrew leans over and pops open the glove compartment. Inside is a baseball with a scribbled signature on it.</p>
<p>Neil gives him a look. “You’re the Ebay buyer? Wouldn’t have it been easier just to talk to Aaron?”</p>
<p>“Why do you think you’re entitled to an answer? In case you haven’t forgotten, we’re not friends. We’re not going to sing Kumbaya and wear friendship bracelets.”</p>
<p>“In that case, I’ll stop braiding,” huffs Neil, turning to look out the window, feeling unaccountably hurt.</p>
<p>Andrew is silent for several moments. “Are you going to tell anyone about the tapes I destroyed?”</p>
<p>Neil stiffens. “Is that what you think of me?”</p>
<p>“You found something out about me without my permission. I need to know if it’s ever going to come back to bite me.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you, Andrew,” says Neil heatedly. “First of all, without your permission? You’re the one who set me up to find those tapes. Besides, it’s not like I’ve ever shared anything else I know about you.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s tone is hard. “What else do you know?”</p>
<p>“Your sexuality, for one,” says Neil. “If I was trying to hurt you, don’t you think I would have spread that around?” He crosses his arms petulantly.</p>
<p>Again, the car is silent. “Did it surprise you?” Andrew sounds genuinely curious, which pierces through Neil’s annoyance.</p>
<p>“Yeah, kinda,” says Neil. “I always assumed you stopped hanging around with me after Kevin and I got together was because you were homophobic.”</p>
<p>Andrew snorts. “I can’t believe how dense you are sometimes.”</p>
<p>“What do you—” Neil cuts himself off as he puts several things together. “Oh,” he says, his stomach dropping. “You’ve got a thing for Kevin.”</p>
<p>Andrew sputters and chokes. “<em>No</em>,” he says insistently. “God, no. He’s my friend but he’s never respected a boundary in his life.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Neil again. That only leaves... “<em>Oh</em>. Me? You like me?” It feels like the ground has tilted beneath him.</p>
<p>“I hate you,” corrects Andrew. “Always have.”</p>
<p>“But you’d rather I was kissing you instead of Kevin?”</p>
<p>Andrew’s face is set. “It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to not be self-destructive anymore. I know you still want him.”</p>
<p>“I—”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Andrew cuts him off, which is probably for the best. Neil doesn’t know what to say.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he agrees quietly.</p>
<p>They don’t say anything more, keeping to themselves until Andrew drops Neil off back at his father’s office, and then peels away from the curb, tires screeching. Neil watches him go, thoughts swirling.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter: reference to murder, reference to suicide, reference to child abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil’s manning the reception desk in his father’s office while cramming for his history test that afternoon. He is deep into winter finals; he only has two remaining before Christmas break next week. He’s looking forward to the free time, especially since he’s been doing little else other than studying for the past two weeks.</p>
<p>School is a means to an end. He can’t afford college outright (although the twenty thousand dollars in his mother’s safety deposit box is burning a hole in his thoughts) and although he’s saved most of what he makes from working for his dad, he still needs at least a little financial help. His grades have always been good so he’s hoping to get an academic scholarship. He’s planning on attending the local liberal arts college—it’s outside of Palmetto, but only about a half hour drive inland—so he can live at home and keep his job while getting his education. That means he has to study hard and do his homework and perform well on tests.</p>
<p>He’s feeling more or less prepared for the history final this afternoon but tomorrow’s chemistry exam is worrying him. Aaron’s top of their class so Neil roped him into helping him study as payback for getting Gorilla off his back. It’s been odd spending so much time with someone who looks so much like Andrew but isn’t similar at all—especially since Andrew has gone back to pretending Neil doesn’t exist since he showed off his new car.</p>
<p>He’s pulled away from his studying by the door to the office opening. He looks up expectantly; it’s a little early in the day for clients, but one thing he’s learned working here is that people keep odd hours.</p>
<p>He tries to keep a neutral face when he sees who’s there, but he doubts he manages it.</p>
<p>“Is your dad in?” asks Mayor Andritch (Palmetto is technically too small to have a mayor, but their county commissioner is traditionally referred to as such). Sheriff Browning is with him.</p>
<p>“Yes,” says Neil, getting up and knocking on his dad’s inner office. “The mayor is here to see you,” he says pushing the door open. He pauses and adds, with as much disdain as possible, “Along with the sheriff.”</p>
<p>His dad looks up, brow furrowing. “Send them in,” he says.</p>
<p>Neil gestures the men inside. Andritch doesn’t pay him any attention, but Browning rolls his eyes at him and makes sure the door is closed tightly so that Neil can’t eavesdrop. Irritated, he returns to his desk. He doesn’t get any studying done, instead watching the door expectantly. He can’t help but feel he looks like Backup does when he’s waiting for someone to get home and feed him.</p>
<p>Finally, after what feels like hours, but is probably only about twenty minutes, Browning and Andritch emerge. Browning looks like he’s sucking on a lemon, but Andritch looks satisfied. He nods once at Neil and leaves.</p>
<p>Neil’s up out of his seat instantly, running into his dad’s office. “What was that about?” he demands.</p>
<p>His father is still sitting in his desk chair, staring unseeingly out his office window. “I’ve been called in to consult on a case.”</p>
<p>“Consult? What does that mean?”</p>
<p>“It means that there’s been a suspicious death similar to one I previously investigated so they want my opinion.”</p>
<p>“Andritch does, you mean,” corrects Neil. “Browning wants you far away so that none of his deputies get a glimpse of what an actual competent sheriff looks like.”</p>
<p>A ghost of a smile touches his dad’s face.</p>
<p>“It must be pretty high profile for the mayor to get involved,” muses Neil. “Who died?”</p>
<p>His dad studies him for a couple beats. “You’ll hear about it soon enough,” he says, more to himself than to Neil. “Kengo Moriyama died last night.”</p>
<p>Neil opens his mouth and closes it again; that certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. “He was murdered?”</p>
<p>“It looks like suicide,” says his dad carefully. “But another high profile colleague of his died in a similar way about ten years ago.”</p>
<p>“Nathan Wesninski,” says Neil, keeping his voice steady.</p>
<p>His dad looks at him sharply. “How do you know that?”</p>
<p>“Is it a secret?” asks Neil, deliberately misunderstanding the question. “It was in the newspaper.”</p>
<p>His dad’s eyes narrow.</p>
<p>“Did you know he was my biological father?” asks Neil, picking at his thumbnail and aiming for nonchalance.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you did,” says his dad.</p>
<p>“Do you think my mom killed him?” Neil can’t keep the waver out of his voice.</p>
<p>“His death was ruled a suicide.”</p>
<p>“By you,” Neil points out. “Do you think Kengo Moriyama’s death has anything to do with him meeting my mother at the Camelot a couple months ago?”</p>
<p>“I think that you have exams and should be focusing on them,” says his dad, with finality. “Let me worry about the investigation. You stay out of it.”</p>
<p>“I’m not a child.”</p>
<p>“You are. You are <em>my</em> child and I don’t want you caught up in any of this.”</p>
<p>“You admit there’s something going on. Does it have anything to do with Jean’s death? I know you’re still looking into that. What aren’t you telling me?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t aware that I was required to inform you of everything going on in my life,” says his dad, his temper ramping up. “You’ve been in the safe? You went behind my back and dug through my personal files? Yet you want me to trust you?” His dad stands and starts packing up his stuff, movements stiff with anger. “Go to school. You have an exam.”</p>
<p>Neil stomps out of the office, huffing in anger. If his dad won’t tell him anything, then he’ll have to figure it out on his own.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After fobbing off an increasingly demanding Kevin, Neil’s getting some last minute cramming done at his locker. At least Kevin’s leaving for his family’s holiday house in Napa tomorrow. Neil told him he’ll have more information about his biological father after vacation; by then either his dad will have completed the DNA test or Neil will have come up with a better lie. He knows he’s been dragging his heels too much and Kevin’s getting suspicious.</p>
<p>Someone shoulders into him from behind. “Yo, Shortbus,” says Seth.</p>
<p>“Charming as always, but I don’t have time for you right now,” replies Neil. He closes his history notebook and stuffs it into his locker. He’s not going to get anything done with Seth hanging around.</p>
<p>“I need you to do me a solid,” Seth continues, completely ignoring his previous statement. “You owe me one.”</p>
<p>“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” says Neil, slamming his locker and turning around. “What is it?”</p>
<p>“Drugs,” says Seth. “Some 09er fuck came up to me the other day and asked where his coke was. Said one of my boys had taken his money and never delivered. Only problem is we don’t deal that shit.”</p>
<p>Neil narrows his eyes. “I don’t quite have strong enough words to describe how <em>not involved</em> I’m willing to get in an intra gang war. Deal with your own issues.”</p>
<p>“Nah, this isn’t a PCHer. I got the 09er douche to point out his dealer to me and he’s not one of mine. They all know better than that; it may be lucrative but way too dangerous. You think those rich white kids won’t roll over and name names as soon as their parents catch them? And they won’t get more than a slap on the wrist; who do you think will take the fall?” He whistles lowly. “None of us are that stupid.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re all mensches,” snarks Neil. “So, what, you think this guy is framing you? Or dealing drugs while pretending to be part of your gang? Why don’t you confront him? You’re plenty intimidating all on your own.”</p>
<p>“Aw, you scared of me?” coos Seth, looking flattered.</p>
<p>“Not even a little, but most people are less intelligent than I am,” returns Neil.</p>
<p>“I don’t know who he’s affiliated with and the Ravens have been causing problems. They’ve been moving in on my territory more and more over the last few months.”</p>
<p>“And we’re back to me not getting involved in any way,” says Neil.</p>
<p>He knows about the Ravens in theory but not in practice. They’re Palmetto’s organized crime syndicate; he’s heard enough from his father to know that they’re bad news. Despite their activities being more or less common knowledge, no charge has ever stuck to them.</p>
<p>“All I want is for you to discreetly follow around the dude the rich boy pointed his finger at to see who he talks to and whether he is dealing drugs on my turf. We’ll take care of the rest.”</p>
<p>“That sounds like someone’s going to end up beaten to death and thrown in the ocean.”</p>
<p>“I’m not letting the Ravens destroy my neighbourhood like they did with the Heights back when I was a kid.”</p>
<p>“The Heights is the second-wealthiest neighbourhood in town,” Neil argues. “It’s hardly a hotspot for crime.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” scoffs Seth. “Now it is. After the Ravens drug dealing and violence drove the property values down so low that real estate developers scooped up all the property, then leaned on the sheriff’s department to clean up the area. Now it’s all gentrified—do you think the people who used to live there can still afford to?”</p>
<p>“That sounds suspiciously like a conspiracy theory.”</p>
<p>“I can only tell you what I saw,” says Seth, starting to back away. “Follow that dealer. Name’s Luke Engel.”</p>
<p>“After exams,” replies Neil. “Hey, Seth? If the Ravens are involved, you should keep your distance. I’d hate for you to end up dead.”</p>
<p>“Aw, Shortbus! I knew you cared about me.”</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head and heads to his history exam.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil doesn’t plan on complying with Seth’s request promptly, but he finds himself with nothing to do following his final exam. His dad is working long hours at the sheriff’s office—the evenings are still tense between them following their argument—and there are no new cases that Neil can handle alone. So he spends his first weekend of his Christmas vacation following around a guy who spends the majority of his time split between surfing at the beach and dicking around at the skatepark.</p>
<p>Luke Engel is vaguely familiar but Neil can’t place him. He’s a junior at Palmetto High, so likely he’s just seen him around school. He lives in a low income neighbourhood, having an absent dad and a mom who works long hours as a nurse. As far as Neil can tell, Luke doesn’t have a part-time job of his own, which makes his possession of an expensive surfboard more than a little suspicious, adding water to Seth’s theory of him being a drug dealer.</p>
<p>On the other hand, Neil hasn’t seen any evidence of clandestine meetings or product changing hands, no matter how much time he spends watching Luke. He settles into a spot with an excellent vantage point of the beach for the third day in a row and pulls out his phone, holding down his second speed dial. Matt is spending his holiday trying out for the school’s volleyball team, but he might be finished for the day and able to distract Neil from his boredom.</p>
<p>“Neil?” asks a voice that’s decidedly not Matt’s when the call connects.</p>
<p>Neil pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it, sure he misheard. But, no, time is ticking away on a call to Andrew.</p>
<p>“Andrew?” he asks, bewildered.</p>
<p>They haven’t interacted since Andrew took Neil for a ride in his new car. Neil’s not sure how he feels about the revelation that Andrew has (or most accurately, had) feelings for him, and Andrew’s gone back to ignoring his existence.</p>
<p>“How did I—What? Did you… did you change my speed dial?” It’s the only explanation he can think of, remembering the night Andrew came to ask him to find damning evidence against Drake.</p>
<p>“You needed to be able to call me,” replies Andrew unruffled. “I thought you’d have figured it out before now.”</p>
<p>“Apparently I don’t call Matt as much as I thought I did,” mutters Neil.</p>
<p>“Then why does he need his own speed dial?”</p>
<p>“Why do you?” counters Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew doesn’t reply, but the resulting silence is comfortable, not heavy or awkward.</p>
<p>“Entertain me,” says Neil. “I’m so bored. The guy I’m following around hasn’t done anything interesting for days.”</p>
<p>“You know, stalking isn’t a healthy way to deal with a crush.”</p>
<p>“Says the guy who changed my speed dial so I’d accidentally call him.”</p>
<p>“That’s different. You were working for me.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” laughs Neil. “Keep telling yourself that.”</p>
<p>“Who are you following?” says Andrew, abruptly cutting off Neil’s teasing.</p>
<p>“Ugh, he’s a skater slash surfer dude who’s apparently also a coke dealer? I haven’t seen any evidence—” He cuts himself off as the far door of his car is yanked open and a woman slides into the passenger seat. She’s pointing a gun at him. “What are you doing?” he demands, dropping his phone in shock.</p>
<p>“Shut up and drive or I’ll shoot,” she says. She’s looking at him fiercely and he feels his retort die on his tongue because he suddenly recognizes her—not by her hair or clothes but by the familiar look in her eyes. She’s his mother. “Drive,” she says again, this time more forcefully.</p>
<p>He eases the car into gear. “Drive where?” he asks, his voice coming out subdued. Whatever reunion he imagined, this wasn’t it.</p>
<p>“That motel on 6th and Park, you know it?”</p>
<p>“The Camelot?” asks Neil, enunciating carefully. “Yeah, I know it.”</p>
<p>“Go there. Take a circuitous route and don’t rush.” She checks over her shoulder as if she’s expecting someone to be following them.</p>
<p>“Why are you here?”</p>
<p>“To take you away,” she says. “Now stop asking questions and do what I told you.”</p>
<p>He lasts about three blocks. “Did you kill Kengo Moriyama? Is that why you’re back in town?”</p>
<p>“I made a deal with the little lord,” is her nonsensical response. She’s still keeping her gun trained on him with a steady hand and watching for pursuers. “I get rid of the guy in his way and he forgives my debt to his family.”</p>
<p>There’s a lot to parse in that. “Your debt?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Her jaw tightens. “Your father’s business partners weren’t particularly thrilled when he died,” she says.</p>
<p>“You killed him,” Neil supplies.</p>
<p>“Should have done it earlier,” she says with a snarl. “I did it to protect you, but it angered them and I had to go back to my family for safety.”</p>
<p>“Your family?”</p>
<p>“The Hatfords,” she replies. “I would have come back for you, but I didn’t want you anywhere near them, didn’t want you as part of that life, so I left you with the sheriff for longer than I originally planned. But now I’ve cleared my debt and we can go.”</p>
<p>“Go?” repeats Neil, fighting hysteria. “Go where? I’m not going anywhere; I have a life here. You expect me to just leave? Leave my dad?”</p>
<p>“He’s not your father. Your stay with him was always meant to be temporary,” she explains. “His position was supposed to keep you safe but that fool got himself fired.”</p>
<p>“He was doing the right thing,” Neil argues hotly. “He was trying to figure out who really killed my friend.”</p>
<p>“He let you get friendly with the Moriyama brats,” snorts his mother. “He’s lucky you’re still alive, or else he’d be eating a gun, too. Now, that’s more than enough questions. I’d forgotten how infernally nosy you are.”</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to argue but she gestures with her gun. He doesn’t think she’ll actually shoot him, but he has no interest in testing that theory either.</p>
<p>He manages to keep his mouth shut until they reach the Camelot (his dad won’t believe it). His mother practically leaps from the car as soon as he turns it off and rounds it quickly, pulling him out of the driver’s seat. She tucks her gun into her belt in order to get both of her hands on him and propels him forward, gripping his arm tightly enough that it hurts.</p>
<p>Halfway across the parking lot, a weight barrels into them from the side, knocking them off balance. Neil feels himself grabbed and steadied as his mother hits the pavement and lets himself be pulled away from her.</p>
<p>“Alright?” asks Andrew lowly, keeping a tight handhold of Neil’s shirt as he places himself between Neil and his mother like a barricade.</p>
<p>Neil stares at his back, wondering at his unexpected presence. He wasn’t sure Andrew cared enough to do anything after what he heard on the phone, but he assumed that if he did act it would be to call Neil’s dad or something. Not come to the rescue himself.</p>
<p>Neil’s mother regains her feet, her gun still in her waistband. She reaches in Neil’s direction, causing Andrew to take a step back, pushing Neil farther behind him.</p>
<p>“Stay away from him,” he practically growls, channeling Backup.</p>
<p>“He’s my son,” his mother spits back, anger and dislike aimed firmly at Andrew. “Abram, come here. We’re going.”</p>
<p>“He’s staying right here,” insists Andrew.</p>
<p>“I am,” agrees Neil. “That’s not my name.”</p>
<p>Her eyes narrow. “If you don’t come with me right this instant, you will never see me again.” Her voice is hard and full of promise. “The deal I made involves me disappearing forever.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care,” insists Neil, swallowing against the burn in his throat. “I’m not leaving my home.”</p>
<p>“<em>I</em> am your home.”</p>
<p>“You’re just some woman who dropped me on a doorstep and disappeared,” says Neil dismissively.</p>
<p>“To protect you,” his mother says, sounding vulnerable for the first time.</p>
<p>“I’m protected. My dad protects me. I’m not leaving him.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s hand tightens in Neil’s shirt. “I’ll kill you if you touch him again,” he says savagely.</p>
<p>His mother’s face hardens as she looks between them. “I’m not waiting around for you to change your mind. It’s on your head if the Moriyamas come after you.” She gives him one last angry look and turns on her heels, heading for a nondescript grey sedan.</p>
<p>Neil and Andrew stand tensely as they watch her drive away, Andrew pivoting to keep himself between Neil and the car until it’s out of sight. As soon as it is, Neil’s knees turn to water and he practically collapses to the ground. His chest is tight and he’s having trouble catching his breath, the shock of seeing his mother and the fear of having a gun pointed at him breaking over him in overwhelming waves.</p>
<p>“You’re okay,” says Andrew, gripping the back of Neil’s neck and forcing his head between his knees. “Breathe. You’re fine.”</p>
<p>“I need…” Neil chokes out. “I need air.”</p>
<p>Andrew coaches him through breathing techniques. Once Neil’s stopped hyperventilating, he pulls him to his feet. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>“My car,” says Neil helplessly.</p>
<p>“We’ll come back for it later,” says Andrew. He steers Neil over to his own car, pulled haphazardly across the curb. It’s still running and the driver’s side door is flung open.</p>
<p>“You’re lucky no one stole it,” hiccups Neil, as Andrew practically pushes him into the passenger seat.</p>
<p>“It’s only a car,” says Andrew.</p>
<p>He gets in without another word and drives. Neil has no idea where they’re going but he doesn’t particularly care. He trusts Andrew to get him where he needs to go.</p>
<p>He sits listlessly in his seat, leaning back against the headrest. He’s exhausted, either from his panic or emotional whiplash or a combination of the two.</p>
<p>“Why did you come for me?” he asks.</p>
<p>Andrew’s jaw tightens. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” he replies. “Someone was kidnapping you.”</p>
<p>“You should have called my dad. He has a gun. You could have been hurt.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t.”</p>
<p>Neil closes his eyes and tries not to think about might-have-beens.</p>
<p>He has no concept of how long they’ve been driving when Andrew pulls the car to a stop. He opens his eyes and finds himself looking out at the ocean. They’re on one of the highest points around, an ocean lookout in the hills that’s a popular make out spot among the local teens. Neil sideeyes Andrew but gets out of the car, taking a deep breath of the salt-tinged air. His lungs feel like they unlock; this is exactly what he needs in order to breathe deeply, but he wonders how Andrew knows.</p>
<p>The lookout is deserted at this time of day and Neil makes his way to the cliff-side barrier, leaning out and gulping in the fresh air. He feels a hand fist in the back of his shirt, anchoring him.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.</p>
<p>He knows Andrew isn’t a fan of heights. He probably hates everything about this location. Neil takes a couple steps back and Andrew’s death grip releases minutely.</p>
<p>He heads over to a bench, telling Andrew that he can wait over at his car if he’d prefer. Andrew ignores his suggestion and sits beside him, lighting a cigarette. After taking a drag he hands it over to Neil and then lights a second one for himself.</p>
<p>Neil doesn’t smoke, but his mom used to and his dad does occasionally. The smell makes him feel small and protected; he can’t believe Andrew remembers this insignificant fact about him.</p>
<p>They sit in easy silence until their cigarettes are burnt down to the filters.</p>
<p>“So that was your mother,” says Andrew, grinding his cigarette under his boot. “Charming woman.”</p>
<p>Neil chokes on a hysterical laugh. “Fuck,” he says, his hands starting to tremble. His own mother tried to kidnap him. Just when he thought his life couldn’t get more absurd. “What do you think would have happened if we hadn’t been on the phone?” he asks. “Do you think she would have stuffed me in her trunk?”</p>
<p>“You’d fit.”</p>
<p>Neil chuckles and looks up at the sky. “I’ll never see her again,” he says quietly. “She’s many things, but she always carried through on her threats.”</p>
<p>“Good riddance,” says Andrew snidely. “You’re better off without her.”</p>
<p>Neil glances over at him. “Am I?”</p>
<p>Andrew looks back. “Yes,” he says with certainty, and leans in to kiss him.</p>
<p>Neil lets him. Lets him hold on to his face and angle it the way he wants him, lets him kiss like they’re fighting, like he’s got something to prove. He kisses back, getting lost in it until he realizes he’s about to cross one of Andrew’s boundaries and touch him. He diverts his hand to grabbing a fistful of Andrew’s shirt instead.</p>
<p>Even that knocks Andrew out of whatever overtook him. He pushes Neil away.</p>
<p>“Tell me no,” he orders.</p>
<p>“Why?” blinks Neil, his brain not quite on line after the scorching kiss.</p>
<p>“Because you didn’t say yes and you’re having a nervous breakdown.” Andrew gets up and paces, keeping well clear of the barriers. He runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s go,” he says. “You need to get home.”</p>
<p>Neil looks at him shrewdly for several beats before realizing that there’s nothing he can do or say to change Andrew’s mind. He’s as stubborn as a goat when he puts his mind to it.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he says, “but we’re not finished with this.”</p>
<p>“There is no ‘this’,” replies Andrew.</p>
<p>The drive back to Neil’s car is spent in complete silence.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After the charged drive back with Andrew, the reality of Neil’s day starts to hit him. He heads to his father’s office, unlocking the door and pushing his way inside, beelining directly to the safe. His father has information about his mother in there and Neil needs to see it.</p>
<p>He spins the lock, but nothing happens. Swearing, he does it again only to achieve the same result. He knocks his head twice into the wall in annoyance. His dad changed the combination after Neil revealed he’d seen the files inside.</p>
<p>After calling his dad a number of uncomplimentary names, he starts snooping. Although security experts always insist that random numbers are the most secure, most people don’t use them, since they can’t remember them. Or they write down their combinations. Neil doesn’t think his dad is quite as stupid as most people, but he is human. He’s allowed to act like it sometimes.</p>
<p>He’s flipping through the day calendar when he finds it, written last April. A six digit number, separated by dashes into three groups of two. Satisfied (and a little disappointed at his dad’s predictability) he spins the new combination into the safe. This time it opens easily.</p>
<p>It’s been rearranged inside; instead of piles of files everything is organized into lockboxes with neat labels. Neil takes the one with MH written on it and places it on his dad’s desk. Then he undoes the latch and opens it.</p>
<p>A packet of blue ink explodes all over him. The box is completely empty but for the booby trap. Neil tamps down on his extreme frustration and carefully wipes the ink away from his eyes. Perhaps his dad isn’t quite as stupid as all that.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Hey, kid, you’re looking a little blue in the face,” says his dad, clearly amused, when Neil gets home.</p>
<p>He did his best to remove the ink in the tiny bathroom at his dad’s office, but it was futile. It’s all over the front of his shirt and he’s going to have to practically scrub his skin off in the shower to get the rest of it off.</p>
<p>“Where should I put your Father of the Year trophy?” Neil grits out. “Because I can think of somewhere I’d like to shove it.”</p>
<p>“I warned you to stay out of the safe.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t hiding things from me,” says Neil heatedly. His nerves are completely frayed.</p>
<p>“Hey, you okay?” asks his dad, now concerned. He gets out of his chair and warily approaches Neil, reaching out to him like he’s a wild animal.</p>
<p>Neil swallows and looks away. “My mother came for me today.”</p>
<p>His dad tenses completely. “What do you mean, came for you?”</p>
<p>“I mean she came to take me away. She pointed a gun at me and tried to force me to get in her car.”</p>
<p>His dad grips his shoulders tightly and then starts patting him down, as if looking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Did she touch you?”</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head wordlessly and his dad pulls him into a crushing hug.</p>
<p>“You know I’d come after you right? I’d never let her take you from me. I’d find you.”</p>
<p>“I know,” says Neil in a small voice. “But keeping things from me isn’t the way to protect me. I’m not going to stop until I get some answers. <em>Help</em> me.”</p>
<p>His dad sighs, a half-broken sound. “Okay,” he says.</p>
<p>“Okay?” echoes Neil.</p>
<p>“Okay,” repeats his dad. “I’ll tell you everything I know about the Moriyamas.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter: reference to drinking to excess</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Although his dad finally relented about keeping information from Neil, he hasn’t yet shared anything. He promises he will after the holidays and the Kengo Moriyama investigation wrap up. Neil knows he’s stalling but he lets him get away with it. He trusts that he’ll tell him what he wants to know eventually; his dad has never broken a promise to him.</p>
<p>As a stopgap measure (and a clear bribe to keep Neil from nagging), he provides Neil with the tapes from the crime hotline set up after Jean’s death.</p>
<p>“Where did you get these?” asks Neil in awe, examining the audiotapes closely as if they’ll answer his question.</p>
<p>His dad shrugs in response. “As a consultant on the Kengo Moriyama murder, I’ve been granted access to the evidence lockup.”</p>
<p>“You <em>stole</em> these from the sheriff’s department?” asks Neil gleefully.</p>
<p>“I <em>copied</em> the originals,” clarifies his dad.</p>
<p>“Still not super legal,” Neil points out.</p>
<p>“So I trust you won’t let anyone know you have them or do anything stupid with them, yes?”</p>
<p>“Cross my heart,” says Neil. “This is the best Christmas present ever.”</p>
<p>“You’re a weird kid,” replies his dad.</p>
<p>Christmas break passes slowly. Matt’s still busy with volleyball tryouts, and the rest of Neil’s friends are either away or caught up with family activities. He doesn’t see or hear from Andrew at all and he tries not to think about the heat of both his mouth and hands. He mostly fails.</p>
<p>Neil spends the remainder of break tailing Luke Engel while listening to hours and hours of recorded calls to the tip line. As expected, the calls are mostly useless. A lot of them are pranks, or older people calling to complain about hooligans loitering near their houses, or people just outright making stuff up. Finally, though, he finds the tip that led to Patrick DiMaccio’s arrest.</p>
<p>“<em>I know who killed the Moriyama kid</em>,” says a completely unrecognizable electronically distorted voice. “<em>His name is Patrick DiMaccio. He lives at 235 West Orchard Way</em>.”</p>
<p>That’s the entirety of the message. If Browning hadn’t already proved his incompetence more than several times over, Neil would be shocked that he didn’t find the tip suspicious.</p>
<p>His dad has some old software on his work computer that he used to unscramble audio files for a case the previous year. It’s incredibly tedious to use, requiring hours of trial and error, but Neil’s determined, bored, and on vacation from school. He literally doesn’t have anything better to do.</p>
<p>He’s at the computer for long enough that he develops a possibly-permanent crick in his neck, but he’s eventually successful. Once undistorted, the voice is clearly a woman’s. And Neil’s sure he’s heard that exact voice before.</p>
<p>He compares the unscrambled audio to the recorded voicemail he found in his mother’s safety deposit box, and he’s more than ninety-five percent certain it’s the same woman. Meaning that Lola Malcolm, head of security at Tetsuji Moriyama’s company, is the one who called in the tip that got Patrick DiMaccio arrested. The same Patrick DiMaccio who she knew in high school.</p>
<p>Neil can’t currently do anything with this information, especially since he still can’t find a money trail to suggest DiMaccio was paid off for his confession. In frustration, he tries to focus on Engel’s activities, so he can tell Seth what he wants to know, but Engel doesn’t do anything suspicious for the entire time Neil follows him. He gives up for the last weekend of break, spending a couple days hanging out with Matt instead.</p>
<p>The first day of school after break is less painful than the first day of school back in September. He has to dodge both Seth and Kevin—he’s been putting Kevin off with bullshit stories about possible leads about his father for almost two months now; he’s going to have to admit he failed to find anything soon—but he finally sets eyes on Andrew again. He has questions, but Andrew doesn’t look at him the entirety of their journalism class, which Neil supposes is an answer in itself. He doesn’t plan to accept it until Andrew actually tells him to get lost.</p>
<p>He’s pulled out of second period with a summons to the principal’s office. Vice Principal Whittier is waiting for him in the company of sheriff Browning.</p>
<p>“Sorry, you made a mistake,” says Neil, upon seeing the sheriff. “This is <em>high school</em>, not clown college.”</p>
<p>Browning doesn’t crack a smile.</p>
<p>“We need to search your locker,” says Whittier.</p>
<p>Neil’s slightly surprised. He figured out the pattern of “random” locker searches a while ago and he’s not due for a check until next week. He covers his surprise by smiling winningly at Browning. “And they sent you? Don’t you have more important things to be doing than shaking down teenagers?”</p>
<p>“We have reason to believe you’re making and distributing fake driver’s licenses.”</p>
<p>“That’s a new one,” Neil quips. “Did you come up with that all on your own?”</p>
<p>“It’s a second degree felony,” replies Browning. “So quit stalling.”</p>
<p>Neil shrugs and leads the way to his locker, spinning the combination to open it. As soon as he does, a handful of blank, plastic driver’s licenses fall to the floor. He stares at them for a beat. “At the risk of sounding like every guilty person everywhere, those aren’t mine.”</p>
<p>“Your wallet,” says Browning, holding out his hand.</p>
<p>Neil grimaces but hands it over. Browning rifles through his cards, pulling out some of his fake IDs.</p>
<p>“Hmm, this Christopher Josten looks surprisingly like you,” he says sarcastically. “As does Stefan King.” He raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and continues rifling through the cards. “And here’s a picture of you with the name Jean Moriyama, that’s odd. And this one says Neil Wymack is twenty one.”</p>
<p>Neil smiles cheekily. “<em>Those</em> ones are mine.”</p>
<p>Browning pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “I’m taking you in.”</p>
<p>Neil balks. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll come willingly.”</p>
<p>“I know,” says Browning, a gleeful look entering his eyes. “But I really want to.”</p>
<p>Neil clenches his jaw as Browning cuffs him.</p>
<p>“You’re suspended for the rest of the week,” adds Whittier, just as the bell rings.</p>
<p>Neil closes his eyes in annoyance. Students flood into the hallway as Browning starts escorting him out of the building.</p>
<p>The reaction is immediate. People start whispering and shouting insulting commentary. At least one person takes out their phone and snaps a picture. With Neil’s luck one of those photos will end up in the yearbook. Just before they reach the doors, they pass by Andrew and Kevin. Kevin looks like he’s been sucker punched but Andrew appears to be enjoying himself. He gives Neil a little two-fingered salute as he’s pushed past him.</p>
<p>Neil glares straight ahead and wishes for the ground to swallow him up.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil uses his one phone call to contact George Waterhouse and implores him not to say anything to his dad.</p>
<p>“Know any good lawyers?” Neil asks as Waterhouse steps into Neil’s interrogation room. He’s refused to say a word to the sheriff without legal counsel. He’s not an idiot.</p>
<p>“You’re very funny,” says Waterhouse dryly. “I know an adequate lawyer who just posted your bail.”</p>
<p>“You’re a god among men, George,” says Neil. “Did you find out what they think I did, anyway?”</p>
<p>“Sure did,” says Waterhouse, taking a seat. “A kid—junior at your school, named Martin Berger—was dropped off at the hospital by his friend last night. They had to pump his stomach and he’s currently in a coma.”</p>
<p>“Yikes,” says Neil, not unsympathetically. Still, “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”</p>
<p>“Well his buddy, you know, the one who dropped him off and ran? When the sheriff tracked him down, he said that he and Martin had spent the night on the town, trying out their new fake IDs. Fake IDs provided by you.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t,” says Neil. “I don’t even know who Martin Berger is.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter to me,” says Waterhouse. “Now, they’ve got you on possession for the IDs in your wallet; there’s no argument on that.”</p>
<p>Neil nods his head in agreement.</p>
<p>“But they don’t care about that. It’s the IDs in your locker that are trouble.”</p>
<p>“They were blank,” says Neil. “There’s no evidence that I was going to make or distribute fake IDs.”</p>
<p>“Right,” agrees Waterhouse. “So unless the kid in the coma wakes up, the only thing they’ve got tying you to this supposed fake ID ring is the testimony of the other guy.”</p>
<p>“Who is the other guy?” asks Neil, his tone dangerous. “I’m going to have a talk with him.”</p>
<p>“Uh,” says Waterhouse, checking his notes. “Some kid named Luke Engel.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>After school hours, Neil tails Luke Engel back to his neighbourhood and confronts him near his house. He pushes him up against the brick wall of an alley, taser at the ready. Backup bristles behind Neil, blocking any escape.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Luke,” Neil says conversationally. “I <em>know</em> I’ve never sold you a fake ID. So why, exactly, did you tell the sheriff I did?”</p>
<p>Luke’s eyes dart back and forth. “It’s what they told me to do,” he whispers.</p>
<p>“Who told you?”</p>
<p>“Look, all I know is that right before the sheriff showed up to ask about what happened to Martin, I got a note. It said <em>Blame Neil Wymack</em>.”</p>
<p>“You just obeyed a random note without question?” asks Neil incredulously.</p>
<p>“I figured it was part of initiation.”</p>
<p>“Initiation for what?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>Neil scoffs. “Try again.”</p>
<p>“No, really,” insists Luke. “I’ve been getting notes with instructions for a couple weeks now.”</p>
<p>“What kind of instructions?” demands Neil. He hasn’t seen any evidence of Engel acting particularly oddly.</p>
<p>“Oh, you know…” says Luke, slightly sheepishly. “I had to perform at karaoke night, I could only speak in sentences containing all the letters of the alphabet for one day, for twenty four hours I was told to only answer questions with questions, and last night we were required to do twelve shots at twelve bars.”</p>
<p>None of which conflict with what Neil’s observed. “Why would you just follow anonymous orders?”</p>
<p>“The first note promised a reward. I think it’s like a secret society, selecting the elite from Palmetto High to join them.”</p>
<p>“How are you elite?” asks Neil sardonically.</p>
<p>Luke scowls but doesn’t answer.</p>
<p>“What about the drugs?” presses Neil.</p>
<p>“What drugs?” Luke is completely baffled.</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head to dislodge unhelpful thoughts. “You have to recant your testimony,” he says.</p>
<p>Luke flinches back against the wall. “I won’t,” he hisses. “These are powerful people.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know who they are,” protests Neil. “It’s probably some assholes playing a prank.”</p>
<p>Luke shakes his head in denial. “I won’t help you. There’s nothing you can do to me that’s worse than what they’ll do.”</p>
<p>Neil narrows his eyes. “We’ll see about that.” Backup growls in agreement.</p>
<p>“Look, I want them to pay as much as you do,” says Luke, eyeing the pitbull.</p>
<p>“I highly doubt that.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding? After what happened to Martin? We were doing the pub crawl on <em>their</em> orders, and they don’t even care that he’s in a coma! I want to see them pay. But I’m not stupid enough to cross them.”</p>
<p>“Good news, Luke,” says Neil, clapping him on the shoulder. “I am.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil’s sitting behind his desk at Wymack Investigations when Matt waltzes in after school, backpack slung over one shoulder.</p>
<p>“Well, if it isn’t my little juvenile delinquent,” he crows. “I hear it took six cops and a stun gun to drag you out of school.”</p>
<p>Neil fruitlessly tries to hush him by grimacing and waving. It doesn’t work. His dad appears at his office door. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow at Neil.</p>
<p>“Their case is fuzzy and circumstantial,” Neil tells him instantly.</p>
<p>He rolls his eyes. “You’ll tell me if there’s a real problem, though, right?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” says Neil. “But there’s nothing to worry about. I’m working on it and the charges will be dropped in no time.”</p>
<p>His dad shakes his head and disappears back into his office.</p>
<p>Matt grimaces. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Not your fault,” Neil assures him. “So you didn’t get to see my walk of shame? I assume you’re the only student who didn’t.”</p>
<p>“It was widely discussed all afternoon,” allows Matt. He digs through his bag. “I got your schoolwork.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” says Neil, taking it from him. “Hey, have you ever heard anything about a secret society at Palmetto? Luke Engel claims he’s being recruited by them.”</p>
<p>“No, but I assume that secret societies don’t actually advertise themselves,” jokes Matt.</p>
<p>“On one hand, it sounds like bullshit, but on the other it sounds exactly like the kind of bullshit that rich, white dudes come up with to make themselves feel important.”</p>
<p>“Then what would they want with Luke Engel?”</p>
<p>“Good point,” says Neil thoughtfully. “He’s closer to being an 02er than an 09er.” He puts on his most charming grin. “I need you to do me a favour.”</p>
<p>“Anything,” says Matt fervently.</p>
<p>“Huh, that was easy,” muses Neil. “I thought you’d be scared of that question by now.”</p>
<p>“You’re my best friend, you wouldn’t steer me wrong.”</p>
<p>“I need you to get a fake ID.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Matt. “How do I do that?”</p>
<p>“Picture this: Dan finally decides it’s time to move your relationship from friends to more. But she’ll only agree to go out with you if you sneak her into a concert at one of the downtown bars. What do you do?”</p>
<p>Matt thinks for a moment, before smiling slowly. It’s devastatingly charming. “I know exactly what I’d do.”</p>
<p>“So do that,” instructs Neil.</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Matt. He circles Neil’s desk and crouches down next to his chair, crossing his arms over the chair arm and looking up at him through his eyelashes. “Neil, buddy, pal,” he says earnestly. “I need a fake ID.”</p>
<p>Neil swats his head. “Find out who <em>else</em> is making them.”</p>
<p>Matt grins. “I’ll see what I can do.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Monday evening means it’s Sweetie’s night for Neil’s former friends, assuming they haven’t altered their routine since he fell out with them. He’s sick of Andrew’s avoidance and he’s really not had the best day, so he decides it’s time to force the issue.</p>
<p>There are a couple familiar cars outside of Sweetie’s, an old-fashioned ice cream and soda shop, including the silver SUV and black Maserati that he knows belong to Kevin and Andrew, respectively. Apparently they drove here separately, fuel crisis be damned.</p>
<p>As Neil pushes his way inside, he reflects that it’s probably a strange place for a bunch of seventeen and eighteen year olds to be hanging out, but he blames Andrew’s sweet tooth and the fact that Palmetto is small enough that there really aren’t that many other options.</p>
<p>It’s only Kevin and Andrew at their regular table: with Nicky working at Klose Pizza and whatever weird thing is going on with Aaron recently and Jean’s death and Neil’s estrangement, Neil assumes that Kevin and Andrew are the only two who still regularly frequent Sweetie’s on Monday nights.</p>
<p>Kevin catches sight of his approach first. He automatically shifts on the bench to make room for him until he pauses, the realization painted on his face shifting quickly to confusion.</p>
<p>Neil ignores him. He stops by the table and looks down at Andrew, who is pretending that his sundae is currently taking up all of his attention. “I need to talk to you,” he says.</p>
<p>“Kevin, get lost,” says Andrew.</p>
<p>Kevin practically squawks in affront. “You can’t send me away!” he says, folding his arms petulantly. “You’re not in charge. I’m not moving.”</p>
<p>Andrew looks at him steadily for a beat before standing. “Fine. Then stay,” he tells Kevin.</p>
<p>“I said I’m staying here and I will,” Kevin says petulantly.</p>
<p>Andrew scoffs and turns on his heel, leading Neil out of the shop by the back exit. They’re in an alleyway, which isn’t the nicest locale but does afford them privacy.</p>
<p>“What?” asks Andrew, not making eye contact.</p>
<p>“Are you going to avoid me forever?” asks Neil. “Or are we going to talk about this?”</p>
<p>“There is no this,” replies Andrew instantly. “It was a mistake, that’s all.”</p>
<p>“A mistake?” Neil asks dryly. “A mistake is dialing the wrong number, not putting your tongue in my mouth.”</p>
<p>Andrew doesn’t respond.</p>
<p>“Tell me, is this ‘mistake’ likely to repeat itself? Just so I know to prepare myself or not.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter,” says Andrew.</p>
<p>“It matters to me,” argues Neil.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter because you’re not interested,” clarifies Andrew.</p>
<p>Neil stares at him. “Do my actions here seem like those of an uninterested person?”</p>
<p>Andrew opens his mouth and then closes it, his expression turning momentarily lost.</p>
<p>“If you’re not interested, that’s one thing,” says Neil, “but don’t blame me.”</p>
<p>Andrew squares his jaw.</p>
<p>“It’s okay if the answer’s no,” Neil tells him. “It’s probably a bad idea, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Everything about you is a bad idea,” says Andrew, pushing Neil against the brick wall. Neil goes pliant, letting him do what he wants. “Don’t touch me,” growls Andrew, and captures his lips in a kiss. It’s forceful and demanding; Neil feels like Andrew’s going to swallow him whole.</p>
<p>“So you do want me,” he says triumphantly when Andrew pulls back, panting air back into his lungs.</p>
<p>“I have bad taste,” replies Andrew. He pushes himself away from Neil and half-turns, gaze distant. “You okay?”</p>
<p>“I have been kissed before,” Neil deadpans.</p>
<p>Andrew cuts his eyes back to him. “You were arrested. And suspended.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Neil, getting his brain back on track. “That. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll figure out who framed me soon.”</p>
<p>Andrew nods once and heads back inside. “Kevin will come looking if I stay here much longer.”</p>
<p>Neil nods in agreement. “Yeah,” he says. “Hey Andrew?”</p>
<p>Andrew waits, his hand on the door handle.</p>
<p>“If you start avoiding me again, I’ll set your precious car on fire.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Neil, Neil,” calls Matt in excitement, rushing into the Wymack Investigations offices after school on Thursday.</p>
<p>“Matt,” greets Neil warily. “You seem excited.”</p>
<p>“Okay, listen to this,” says Matt, settling onto the waiting area’s couch and kicking his feet up on the decorative coffee table.</p>
<p>“You found out how to get a fake ID?” guesses Neil.</p>
<p>Matt sends him a wounded look. “This is <em>my</em> story,” he says.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” says Neil insincerely. “Tell me.”</p>
<p>“Okay, so, I’ve been asking around school for the past two days about where I can get a fake ID.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” asks Neil in interest.</p>
<p>“And no one knew anything helpful. I was told more than once that rumour is that <em>you’re</em> the best source of fake IDs.”</p>
<p>“Great,” says Neil, rolling his eyes. “Thanks anyway.”</p>
<p>“I’m not finished,” chides Matt. “Stop jumping ahead.”</p>
<p>Neil sighs.</p>
<p>“So, last night I had a shift and this kid from one of my classes comes in with an ID saying he’s twenty-one, acting like I really didn’t know any better.”</p>
<p>Neil scoffs. “Moron.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. I followed him out to the parking lot and was like, ‘Hey! You’re on Candid Camera!’ He turned all grey and begged me to get rid of the store’s security tape. So I told him that I would, if he told me where he got his ID.”</p>
<p>“Nice,” says Neil approvingly.</p>
<p>“I know, right?” says Matt. “I was like Shaft or something.”</p>
<p>“Shut yo mouth!”</p>
<p>Matt grins. “So, to keep the story short—”</p>
<p>“Ha,” deadpans Neil.</p>
<p>“—the word is that if you put an envelope with $250 in cash and your name into locker 110 before first period, a brand new fake ID will find its way to your student mailbox by the end of the day.”</p>
<p>“Good work,” says Neil. “You know what I’m going to ask next.”</p>
<p>“I checked, and no one’s assigned locker 110,” replies Matt, anticipating his question.</p>
<p>“Hmmm,” says Neil thoughtfully. “I’ll have to set up surveillance on it.”</p>
<p>“You’re suspended,” Matt reminds him.</p>
<p>“While that makes it more difficult, it’s not impossible,” says Neil. “Okay, good. I’ll set that up. You, my friend, are going to put an envelope with your name and $250 in there tomorrow morning.”</p>
<p>“Only if it’s your money,” bargains Matt.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil’s waiting in anticipation for Matt to show up at his house the following evening. After their talk the previous day, Neil headed to Palmetto High to set up his surveillance. The school was creepy at night, with the lights mostly off and the hallways deserted. Even the cleaning staff was home for the night, leaving Neil completely alone after he picked the locks to get in.</p>
<p>Locker 110 was conveniently located across from a trophy display case. Neil cleared one of the shelves and put up a fake display which housed several cameras, set up to take photos of the lockers across the hall at close intervals.</p>
<p>Matt had texted after school, saying that he found a fake ID in his student mailbox but that he had a shift before he could meet Neil. Neil had spent his time restlessly, retrieving his camera and going through the footage. As far as he could tell no one opened locker 110 all day. His gaze sharpens when Luke Engel shows up on the feed. However, he doesn’t open the locker, instead crouching out of frame, likely accessing a locker on the bottom row.</p>
<p>Backup woofs softly, claiming Neil’s attention. He looks up to see Matt standing outside his front door, grinning and waving.</p>
<p>“You could have knocked,” Neil points out.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t sure if your dad’s home,” explains Matt. “Wouldn’t want the sheriff to see my brand new all-access pass to the area bars.” He waves the card in front of Neil’s face teasingly.</p>
<p>“He’s not the sheriff anymore,” says Neil, swatting and grabbing at the fake license. He examines it, scoffing. “Ugh.”</p>
<p>“What?” asks Matt. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“The ink’s bleeding, the hologram’s missing…” Neil peers more closely at it, “and that’s clearly your yearbook photo. This is a $250 piece of garbage.”</p>
<p>“Hey!”</p>
<p>“Not only am I falsely accused, I’m now genuinely offended,” complains Neil.</p>
<p>“So, you know who framed you?” Matt asks.</p>
<p>“Hmm?” Neil hums absently, still examining the fake ID. “Oh, that. Yeah, it’s obvious.” He gestures carelessly at the still image he has pulled up on his computer.</p>
<p>Matt cocks his head. “Is this some kind of weird payback for you framing Riko back in September?”</p>
<p>Neil looks up sharply. “Why would you say that?”</p>
<p>Matt points at the screen, where Luke Engel is barely visible. “That’s one of Riko’s henchmen,” he says.</p>
<p>“Is he?” asks Neil, squinting at the screen.</p>
<p>“He was there when Riko smashed your headlights,” supplies Matt.</p>
<p>“I knew he looked familiar,” says Neil. “Don’t worry; the charges against me will be dropped tomorrow.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil waltzes into Sheriff Browning’s office early the next morning.</p>
<p>“Your court date isn’t until next week,” says Browning. “Unless you’re here to confess and to save us all the trouble.”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes, false confessions <em>are</em> the only way you bother to solve crimes,” says Neil. “But, no. You can go ahead and cancel my court date. I’m here to help you catch the actual culprit.” He falls into the comfy chair in the corner of the office, kicking his feet up.</p>
<p>Browning does a double take. “The fuck are you wearing?”</p>
<p>Neil looks down at his beige clothing. “I was trying something new. No?”</p>
<p>“No.” Browning glares. “What are you talking about, the actual culprit? I know it’s you.”</p>
<p>“It’s not, and I can prove it,” says Neil, digging into his messenger bag and pulling out the yearbook. “Write any student’s name on this post-it and put it in this envelope with $250 that I’m graciously donating to the cause. Get one of your lackeys to drop it into locker 110 and by the end of the day, a fake ID will be in that student’s mailbox and the culprit will be here.”</p>
<p>“And what are you going to do all day?”</p>
<p>Neil smiles. “I’m going to sit right here, catching up on my homework. You can keep both eyes on me.”</p>
<p>Browning doesn’t look happy about it but he does take the yearbook and the envelope of cash. “I could just take this,” he says.</p>
<p>“How very ethical of you.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have time for your games.”</p>
<p>“And I don’t have time to ‘illegally tamper with a government document’ if I’m in your office all day,” retorts Neil, making sarcastic air quotes. “Here’s the deal: if events don’t happen exactly the way I laid them out, then I’ll plead guilty to whatever you want me to.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” sighs Browning, flipping through the yearbook before writing a name on a post-it, angling his body so Neil can’t see it. He takes the envelope out to Deputy Towns.</p>
<p>As he does, Neil pulls out his phone and texts Luke: <em>hey, I figured out who’s to blame for Martin’s coma. Come by the sheriff’s department after school and watch as I nail them to the wall</em>.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Browning spends most the day alternating between actually doing his job and glaring at Neil. It doesn’t bother Neil; on the contrary he’s proud he’s managed to annoy Browning to this degree.</p>
<p>A little after 4 pm, Deputy Towns returns, handing over the fake ID. “It’s as he said; it was in the mailbox,” he informs Browning.</p>
<p>Browning looks around and raises an eyebrow. “He also said the real culprit would be here.”</p>
<p>“But obviously it’s not me,” Neil points out. “You’ve been watching me all day.”</p>
<p>Browning looks like he swallowed a lemon. “You could have an accomplice.”</p>
<p>Neil only smiles. “Wait for it.”</p>
<p>A couple minutes later, a breathless Luke shows up. “Did I miss it? Did you get them?”</p>
<p>“TA DA!” shouts Neil, making jazz hands in Luke’s direction. “Your culprit.”</p>
<p>“What? That makes no sense,” says Luke.</p>
<p>“Then why do you have the $250 that was placed in locker 110 this morning?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Browning nods and gestures for him to take out his wallet, which is flush with cash.</p>
<p>“That’s my money,” argues Luke.</p>
<p>“Really? What’s written on that fifty dollar bill?” asks Neil. “Read it out please, Sheriff.”</p>
<p>Browning squints at it. “Neil Wymack is smarter… than I am,” he finishes dryly.</p>
<p>“What do you think? Should I do the ‘ta da’ again?” Neil asks in an aside to Deputy Towns, leaning into his side.</p>
<p>“Locker 110 is yours?” Browning asks Luke.</p>
<p>“Nope,” answers Neil blithely. “His is the one below it, but if you look I’m sure you’ll find he cleverly cut a hole so he could reach up and collect the money.” He turns to Luke. “I’m guessing you and your stupid buddy make your <em>own</em> fake IDs—that’s why you’re so flush with cash, right? Not selling drugs.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” sputters Luke.</p>
<p>“It’s pretty obvious in retrospect. Honestly, with where you and Martin live, how else could you afford to drop so much cash during your pub crawl?”</p>
<p>“Where <em>did</em> you get so much money?” Browning asks. Luke sets his jaw and doesn’t answer.</p>
<p>Neil addresses himself to Browning again. “When you called Luke to the office, he knew he was in trouble. So he stuffed the blank IDs into my locker and told you I was making them. What I don’t know is why.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it was exactly as I said,” sneers Luke.</p>
<p>“A secret society made you do it?” drawls Neil. “Or maybe you still have misplaced loyalty to Riko Moriyama?”</p>
<p>Luke’s expression turns smug. “You have no idea what’s coming for you.”</p>
<p>“Alright, that’s enough,” says Browning. “You, Luke Engel, are under arrest. Wymack, get the hell out of here; I’ve seen enough of you to last me several months.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Before heading home, Neil ducks into the county records office, which is housed in the same building as the sheriff’s department and other municipal offices. He’s exhausted all other avenues of investigating where the money presumably paid to DiMaccio for his confession has gone. He doesn’t have high hopes, but there’s a possibility of him finding something here that isn’t available online.</p>
<p>The records clerk is a tiny, elderly, nearsighted woman. Neil only knows her by reputation from gossip he heard when his dad was the sheriff, but he’s well aware Inga suffers from face blindness (as well as regular almost-blindness). Neil hands over Deputy Towns’ ID that he swiped in Browning’s office; Inga won’t be able to tell the difference between the khaki-coloured button up shirt, dark tie, and dark slacks he’s wearing and an actual deputy’s uniform. Neil asks her for everything they have on Patrick DiMaccio.</p>
<p>She types the name into an ancient computer that is possibly as old as she is, and then shuffles off into the file room. Neil taps his foot in impatience, wondering if it is possible for a human being to move any slower than she currently is.</p>
<p>When she returns with the file (thankfully the correct one), Neil just manages not to snatch the documents from her hands. Instead, he thanks her and takes the file to the nearest table, flipping it open and sifting through the records.</p>
<p>There are property tax filings on his house, and income tax receipts, arrest records, and… a birth certificate? From seven years ago? It’s a record of birth for a Grace Ferdinand, born April 1997. Mother listed as Katherine Ferdinand and father as Patrick DiMaccio.</p>
<p>So. Patrick DiMaccio has a secret daughter. And Neil finally has a lead on where DiMaccio’s payoff went.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings for this chapter: referenced murder, referenced violence/blood, non-consensual drugging, minor assault</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil finds himself pressed into the concrete wall next to the roof access door which has been propped open with a brick. He wasn’t aware that Palmetto High even had roof access until Andrew shot him a meaningful look in journalism class this morning and then waited at the end of the hallway for him at the beginning of lunch period. He led Neil up here (the door lock has obviously been tampered with) and then proceeded to slam him against the wall and kiss him senseless. Neil doesn’t mind this development.</p>
<p>His hands are spread across the wall behind him, the exposed brick rough against his skin. No matter how much he wants to, he knows better than to reach out to hold onto Andrew. Even before he knew Andrew’s history, he was always very careful of his boundaries. Andrew made them clear enough.</p>
<p>“What are you doing after school?” rasps Andrew as he takes a break from kissing Neil in order to breathe.</p>
<p>Neil takes the opportunity to press kisses along his neck, smirking as Andrew shudders against him. “This.” His mind is hazy with desire.</p>
<p>“There is no this,” Andrew says, but the response sounds rote. He’s flushing and his pupils are dilated; Neil feels immensely proud of himself that he was able to produce this response.</p>
<p>Neil shakes his head, trying to clear the fog. “Right, I know. Anyway, I’ve got work.”</p>
<p>“Skip it,” says Andrew, leaning in to capture his lips again. “Come to mine.”</p>
<p>Neil tenses. Andrew lets him go and steps away, holding his hands up. “What.”</p>
<p>Neil almost shivers from the loss of heat. “I’m not going to have sex with you,” he says.</p>
<p>“When did I ask you to,” Andrew deadpans.</p>
<p>“You didn’t,” admits Neil. “But I know my reputation is that I’m slutty. I don’t want you to expect more than I’m offering.”</p>
<p>“What are you offering?” asks Andrew, stepping closer again and gripping Neil’s hips. His hands feel like branding irons.</p>
<p>“More of this,” offers Neil, dropping his head to plant another kiss to Andrew’s jaw.</p>
<p>“So come to my place after school.”</p>
<p>“Can’t,” replies Neil. “I’ve got to go to LA.”</p>
<p>Andrew raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to LA?”</p>
<p>Neil shrugs one shoulder. “Won’t take too long. I’ve just gotta check something.”</p>
<p>“I could… go with you?” Andrew offers, sounding almost confused about why he’s doing so.</p>
<p>“Careful, Andrew,” says Neil. “That sounds like an offer someone in a relationship might make.”</p>
<p>“We’re certainly not that,” Andrew says, leaning in to kiss Neil again.</p>
<p>“No,” agrees Neil. “This is nothing.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil manages to make it back to his regular lunch table before the end of the period. He practically inhales his lunch, his stomach rumbling after his extracurriculars with Andrew.</p>
<p>Matt eyes him speculatively. “Where were you?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you know…” says Neil expansively, waving his arm. He shoves half his sandwich in his mouth and hopes that’s enough of an explanation.</p>
<p>Matt’s well versed in his bullshit by now and only gives him a flat look before reaching out to ruffle his hair. “I’ll figure it out eventually,” he promises.</p>
<p>Neil glances at Dan, expecting pointed questions. She’s a good friend but she is very nosy. Instead, she’s staring forlornly down at her tray. She’s barely eaten anything and is absentmindedly picking at her salad.</p>
<p>Neil nudges her with his foot. “What’s up?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Dan, blinking in surprise and looking up at him. “Sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about Hector.”</p>
<p>Neil glances at Matt, wondering if he’s going to be heartbroken about Dan obviously being hung up on another man, but his face has turned sympathetic and resolute. “We’ll find him,” he says fervently. “We’ll make posters after school and put them up.”</p>
<p>“Uh,” says Neil, completely lost. “Who’s Hector?”</p>
<p>“My dog,” says Dan. “He was stolen last night while I was babysitting.”</p>
<p>“Stolen?” repeats Neil. “Are you sure he didn’t escape or run away?”</p>
<p>Dan shakes her head. “He was tied up outside. The Johnsons won’t let him in the house, but their yard is gated and the weather was mild. I thought he’d be okay.”</p>
<p>“Wanna help make posters?” Matt asks.</p>
<p>“I can’t, I’ve got a project for journalism class,” lies Neil. “But make sure you take one down to the shelter in person. They’re more likely to remember you if they see your face. And I’ll check around tomorrow, see if I can find anything.”</p>
<p>“Really?” asks Dan. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Lost dogs aren’t really my specialty, but I might be able to turn something up.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>It takes him a couple hours to reach LA, where Neil meets Kathy Ferdinand in a little bistro. After he introduces himself and they shake hands, she grins at him, showing all her teeth like a bleach-blonde land shark.</p>
<p>“Thanks for meeting with me,” he says.</p>
<p>“Of course! I’m happy to help out the aspiring masses,” she replies.</p>
<p>She’s achieved modest success as a television personality on a morning show in the past couple years. Looking at her, Neil gets an idea of who she is. Likely she moved to LA as an aspiring actress and toiled away in commercials for years before she got her break. She was working at the local station in Palmetto when she gave birth to her (and Patrick DiMaccio’s) daughter.</p>
<p>Her financials show that she was given a bursary from a charity not too long ago, held in trust for her daughter. Neil couldn’t track the money back to its source as it was transferred from shell company to shell company, but it was a lot of money. Apparently the going rate to confess to murder was ten million dollars.</p>
<p>Neil smiles at Kathy. He made this appointment under false pretenses—as far as she knows he’s a Palmetto High journalism student who is working on a story. She’s not a big enough celebrity that people often want to interview her so she’s clearly flattered by each offer.</p>
<p>“So,” he start, “as I said in my call, I’m from Palmetto.”</p>
<p>“I remember having good times in that town,” she replies.</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” says Neil. “I’m taking journalism class and—”</p>
<p>“And you want some pointers on how to make it in the industry?” she asks. Her grin is so wide he can see her molars.</p>
<p>“Not quite,” he corrects. “We’re doing a story on local charities. I’ve been looking into HeartLove Children’s charity and you’re listed as one of their recipients?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” she looks surprised but not irritated by his line of questioning. “Yes, I am.” Her smile turns softer, more real. “It’s not well known, but my daughter was born with cystic fibrosis.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to hear that,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“The bursary granted to us by HeartLove covers her medical expenses.” She dabs the corner of her eye. “I don’t know what I would have done without them. She was really sick last year and I was at my wit’s end, but then HeartLove swooped in to cover her hospital costs and allowed me to pay for her to see a specialist here in LA. She’s doing really well now, do you want to see a picture?”</p>
<p>The answer to that is no, but Neil nods anyway. He suffers through looking at pictures of a painfully cute child who is clearly thriving because of hush money. He manages to conclude his interview with several more questions that make him look like he really is writing a story, before hastily excusing himself.</p>
<p>Once he gets back to his car, he thumps his head against his steering wheel a couple times. He’s sure the Moriyamas are paying off Patrick DiMaccio for admitting to murdering Jean, but if Neil exposes them he’ll be responsible for cutting off the payment for medical treatments to a chronically and seriously ill seven-year-old.</p>
<p>Why couldn’t the money be going to someone less deserving?</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil arrives home late. There’s leftovers in the fridge and a note from his dad that he’s going to be out all night. He doesn’t specify what job he’s working on, so Neil suspects he’s actually spending the night with Ms. Winfield and resolves not to think about it. Mostly he’s ignoring that whole situation. It’s not that he doesn’t like Ms. Winfield or resents that she’s dating his dad—it’s just that it’s weird that she’s his guidance counsellor. Seeing her outside of school has been odd and awkward the few times it’s happened.</p>
<p>Backup’s been cooped up all day, so Neil heads out to the dog beach to let him stretch his legs. He would feel less safe being out after dark if his dog wasn’t large, black, and extremely protective.</p>
<p>After throwing the ball an innumerable number of times, Neil clips Backup’s lead back on and turns to leave when he catches sight of the notice board next to the parking lot. It’s usually full of admonitions to dog owners (<em>There’s no such thing as the poop fairy, pick up your dog’s mess!</em>) as well as ads for rooms for rent or things for sale. Now it’s covered with posters for missing dogs.</p>
<p>He recognizes Dan’s number on the newest poster and takes pictures of the others. He’s suspicious of the number of lost dogs and wonders if any of them have been found.</p>
<p>Once he gets home, he calls the numbers, posing as a concerned citizen wondering if they’ve found their dog. He notices a trend almost right away: dogs with large rewards offered for their return have all found their way back to their owners, while the dogs with small or no rewards are still missing.</p>
<p>He recreates one of the missing dog posters that had a $20 reward, changing the contact number to his own and the reward to $200. He yawns as he prints off a dozen of the changed posters and checks the clock; it’s after eleven. He’ll hang them up on the way to school tomorrow.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It takes a day, but he’s contacted before long by someone who claims to have found his missing dog. He sets up an exchange that afternoon, dragging Matt and Backup along with him. Handing Matt an envelope with $200 cash he took from the emergency fund at his dad’s office, he waits in the distance until his cue.</p>
<p>A white van pulls up to the curb and a tall, Hispanic man gets out, dragging along a Shi Tzu on a rope. Neil sticks a tracker in the car’s front wheel well and waits for Matt to get the dog and hand the man the money. Then he lets Backup loose, indicates the man who is still out of hearing range, and commands, “Attack!” Backup takes off, barking wildly. Neil chases after him, yelling like he mistakenly lost control of his dog, barreling into the man as he tries to get away from the terrifying pitbull.</p>
<p>He surreptitiously slips the envelope of money out of the man’s inner jacket pocket and clips Backup’s leash on his collar, apologizing profusely. The man swears at him in Spanish while making a hasty retreat, fearfully watching Backup over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“He say anything to you?” Neil asks as Matt saunters up beside him, trembling dog trailing behind him.</p>
<p>“No habla inglés,” replies Matt.</p>
<p>Neil wrinkles his nose. “Your accent is atrocious.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Matt takes off to go help Dan with her search (or offer her a shoulder to cry on, Neil suspects). It’s an unseasonably warm afternoon, so after Neil drops off the Shi Tzu at his actual owner’s house, he decides to leave Backup at home in the air conditioning instead of keeping him in the car. After he does so, he uses the tracker he placed on the man’s van to track his whereabouts. Neil highly doubts that he’s the one running the dognapping ring; it’s more likely that he was promised money if he performed the exchange. Still, that means that he can lead Neil to the actual culprits.</p>
<p>Neil catches up with the van parked outside a warehouse at the outskirts of town. He parks a block away, setting up his secondary camera on the dash to take time lapse photos while using his main camera with a telescopic lens attached to get a closer look. As far as he can tell, the man works here, or at least has friends who do. They are standing in a group near his car, speaking to each other. The dognapper is agitated, likely having noticed he’s lost the cash by now, and is using his hands animatedly while he talks to the other men. Based on the fact that he’s miming a giant shape, Neil assumes he’s talking about Backup. He smirks proudly.</p>
<p>Before long, a green sedan pulls up and a younger, white man with dark hair gets out. He makes his way directly to the dognapper and holds out his hand expectantly. The other man starts waving his hands expressively, again pantomiming a large shape attacking him and biting his leg. The white man yells at him for quite some time, before giving up and leaving.</p>
<p>Neil gets good shots of both his face and his license plate. He picks up his phone and calls his dad.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” asks his dad, sounding tired.</p>
<p>“Are you at the office? Can you run a plate for me?” Neil responds. “I’m tracking down a dognapper.”</p>
<p>His dad is silent for a couple beats before sighing. “Yeah, okay. You’d better not be lying about what this is for.”</p>
<p>“Would I do that?” asks Neil innocently, before reading off the license plate information.</p>
<p>His dad comes up with the information quickly, adding that after a background check he finds that the man in the green car works at the local animal shelter.</p>
<p>“Then I need to search the shelter for the missing dogs,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“They probably don’t have them in an area open to the public,” his dad tells him. “You’ll need a warrant. Or at least a law enforcement official willing to throw some muscle around.”</p>
<p>“Know anyone I can ask?” says Neil slyly.</p>
<p>His dad chuckles. “That’s not me anymore. Find someone else.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” says Neil. “See you later.”</p>
<p>He hangs up his phone and shoves it in his pocket, reaching across the dash to get his second camera.</p>
<p>His driver’s side door is suddenly wrenched open. Before Neil can react in any way, a cloth is shoved over his mouth and nose. He drops his camera, automatically reaching up to free himself, but the hands on him are too strong. He’s pulled unceremoniously from the car and dragged back, struggling all the while. The cloth over his face smells like ether and he’s going lightheaded.</p>
<p>He hears his trunk being opened over the sound of blood rushing to his head. His knees give out and he would fall if he wasn’t being supported. He’s shoved like a sack of potatoes into his own trunk, the cloth still over his face blocking him from getting a glimpse of his assailant. Even if he did, his vision is blurry. He struggles to stay awake but it’s a losing battle.</p>
<p>“This is payback,” hisses an unfamiliar voice as he loses consciousness. “So much worse is coming for you.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>He doesn’t know how much time has passed before he wakes up, but he doesn’t think it’s that long. His head is pounding like a jackhammer has taken up residence in his brain and his limbs are stiff from being shoved into a small space. Manoeuvering in the tight fit of his trunk, he contorts himself enough that he can free the phone from his pocket. He presses Matt’s speed dial.</p>
<p>Silence greets him when the phone is answered.</p>
<p>“Fuck, you’re not Matt,” says Neil in realization. He never bothered to fix his speed dial back after he found out Andrew changed it.</p>
<p>“I’m not,” agrees Andrew.</p>
<p>“Oh, well, you’ll do,” decides Neil. “Can you come get me? I’m locked in my trunk.”</p>
<p>More silence greets this statement. “...By accident?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Neil testily. “I tripped and fell in here. I’m a block away from the old McLellan warehouse. Can you come get me or not?”</p>
<p>The phone disconnects. Neil assumes that means Andrew’s coming, although it could mean that he’s being left to roast alive. Either way, he has to wait.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He hears movement outside of the car after less than half an hour, the driver’s side door opening and then closing again, before there’s a scraping sound on the trunk. It pops open and Neil practically vaults out of it, almost face planting as his knees don’t appreciate the sudden movement. Andrew catches him and steadies him.</p>
<p>“Your keys were in the ignition,” he says blandly.</p>
<p>“Yup,” replies Neil gamely. “What fun games I play.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s expression is very flat. Neil takes his keys from his unresisting hand and starts to head to the driver’s seat, but Andrew grabs his wrist before he can take more than a step.</p>
<p>“That’s it?” Andrew asks.</p>
<p>“Uh…” says Neil. “Thanks?”</p>
<p>Andrew rolls his eyes and pushes Neil against his car, crowding up against him. “You’re not going to explain.” He doesn’t phrase it like a question, but Neil is pretty sure he’s asking.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t planning on it,” admits Neil. “Honestly, if you hadn’t messed with my speed dial, you weren’t going to know anything about this.”</p>
<p>There’s a pause. “You’ll let me know if you need help.”</p>
<p>“What I need right now is an honest cop, but I don’t think you fit the bill.”</p>
<p>“Phil Higgins,” replies Andrew instantly.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“An honest cop. He’s the one I... gave Drake’s videos to.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Neil. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>Andrew looks at him shrewdly. “Do things like this happen often to you?”</p>
<p>“Why, you worried about me?” taunts Neil. “I thought I meant nothing. I thought you hated me.”</p>
<p>“Every inch of you,” says Andrew, somehow getting even closer and kissing him harshly. It lasts the exact amount of time required to turn Neil’s brain into mush before Andrew pulls back and walks away. Neil blinks a couple times in surprise, before stretching out his neck to work out the kink he acquired when curled up in his trunk.</p>
<p>Andrew’s Maserati blows past him in the opposite direction as he climbs back into his car. Luckily, none of his possessions seem to be missing. Both cameras and his wallet are present and accounted for.</p>
<p>He’s still a little shaken from being pulled out of his car and more than a little sore from his sojourn in the trunk. He decides he’s had enough excitement for one day.</p>
<p>He’s not sure who attacked him and he has enough on his plate right now. He decides the best course of action is to pretend it never happened.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Phil Higgins is exactly as Andrew says when Neil drops by to visit him, with Dan and Matt in tow. Of course, the problem with him being honest is that he feels guilty about intimidating a shelter employee into letting him in without a warrant, but once he hears about the dognapping his face turns hard. He steadfastly refuses to bring along Neil or Dan or Matt (something about how legitimate officers of the law do not usually have several teenage sidekicks), but he calls Neil as soon as his search is finished.</p>
<p>“Found the dogs,” he says. “They had them hidden in a back room that was labelled off limits because of infectious diseases. Almost all the dogs from the posters you gave me are here.”</p>
<p>“Almost all?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“Your friend’s terrier is here, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Higgins. “According to these prime specimens of humanity they kidnap the dogs from the 90909 zip code and wait for a big reward. If there isn’t one offered, they eventually adopt out the dog, making money on it that way.”</p>
<p>“Dan will be relieved,” says Neil. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Thank <em>you</em>,” replies Higgins with a laugh. “Most of my cases don’t end so easily or so well and there’s usually fewer adorable dogs to pet.”</p>
<p>Neil smiles and says goodbye.</p>
<p>“Good news?” asks his dad, leaning against his door frame.</p>
<p>“Fewer dognappers in the world,” says Neil.</p>
<p>His dad nods once, but his expression is troubled. Neil perks up instinctively.</p>
<p>“Kengo Moriyama’s death was ruled a suicide,” his dad says.</p>
<p>“And… do you think it was?” asks Neil carefully.</p>
<p>“After what you told me your mother said? Of course not,” admits his dad. “But the evidence isn’t there and the Hatfords are an old crime family; most of their hold is farther inland, but they’re definitely not to be trifled with, especially with such flimsy evidence.”</p>
<p>Neil nods and drops his gaze.</p>
<p>His dad is quiet for a couple moments before straightening. “Come on,” he says. “You’ve waited for information long enough.”</p>
<p>He leads Neil into his own bedroom and heads to the closet. He pulls down a cardboard box from the top shelf. Neil squints at it suspiciously.</p>
<p>When his dad opens it and starts pulling out case files, he scoffs. “You’ve been keeping Jean’s murder files in a box labelled <em>Skin Mags</em>?”</p>
<p>His dad shrugs. “What’s the likelihood of you finding it there by mistake?”</p>
<p>“Hey,” says Neil, vaguely offended, “I’m a teenage boy. Aren’t you supposed to <em>assume</em> that I’ll snoop through your porn?”</p>
<p>“It was booby trapped with blue ink for years before I moved that particular trap to my safe,” says his dad. “You never touched it.”</p>
<p>“I could’ve,” mutters Neil.</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” replies his dad, amused now. “You want to look at these files or not?”</p>
<p>Neil reaches for them. “What was it that made you focus your investigation on Tetsuji?”</p>
<p>“His alibi, for one,” explains his dad, “he and Asuka were supposedly together in a hotel room at the time of the murder but when I questioned them separately about it I got different and contradictory answers from them.”</p>
<p>“Okay…” says Neil, opening Tetsuji’s statement. “What else?”</p>
<p>“When I checked his phone records, there was a call placed about twenty minutes before he supposedly arrived home.”</p>
<p>“To whom?”</p>
<p>“Lola Malcolm. She’s the—”</p>
<p>“Head of security at DayMo Software. Yeah, I know.”</p>
<p>His dad looks at him sharply. “She’s more than that. She used to work for Nathan Wesninski before he died and she was his fixer. She made his problems go away.”</p>
<p>“Like me and my mom?” asks Neil. “Wait, she also worked with Patrick DiMaccio. They might have been friends. She may have already known about his daughter and that he was dying.”</p>
<p>“About what?” asked his dad, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>Neil quickly explains about DiMaccio’s terminal cancer and his chronically ill daughter. He tries to gloss over exactly how many illegal things he did to get the information.</p>
<p>His dad only shakes his head.</p>
<p>“So, Lola’s the one who fudged with Jean’s time of death?” figures Neil. “Tetsuji kills his son, calls her in a panic, and she arrives to clean up the mess? She lowered the body temperature with ice so the time of death estimate is moved to a time when he had an alibi.”</p>
<p>“That’s what I suspected,” agrees his dad. “Though I wasn’t sure it was actually Tetsuji who actually killed him. He could have been covering for Asuka or Kevin, but I couldn’t find a motive for any of them.”</p>
<p>“Well, Asuka was pregnant, maybe she wanted Jean out of the way?” suggests Neil. “As for Kevin… you’re right that there’s no motive, but it could have been accidental. Who knows, maybe he had a seizure or something.” He feels like a traitor to even suggest it.</p>
<p>His dad pauses from unpacking the box and looks up at him. “Why would you say that?”</p>
<p>“Something I found out,” Neil mumbles. “He has something called Type IV epilepsy. I don’t know much about it, but epilepsy means seizures, right?”</p>
<p>His dad sits down heavily on his bed.</p>
<p>“What is it?” asks Neil in trepidation.</p>
<p>“I know what Type IV epilepsy is,” says his dad slowly. “My younger sister had it.”</p>
<p>He almost never talks about his family; Neil knows next to nothing about them, except that his dad had been in and out of prison and was eventually killed there, and that he had a sister who died from a drug overdose as a teenager.</p>
<p>“Is it genetic?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” sighs his dad. “I think it’s past time I do that DNA test.”</p>
<p>Neil nods mutely. “And the epilepsy?”</p>
<p>“It’s characterized by episodes of extreme violence brought on by stress,” explains his dad, sounding like he’s repeating something he heard a doctor say once, “which the sufferer has no memory of afterwards.”</p>
<p>Neil leans back against the wall, hugging the file he’s holding to his chest. “Kevin admitted to me that he doesn’t clearly remember the day Jean died.”</p>
<p>His dad’s eyes are troubled. “Remember how out of it he was that night? Practically catatonic. I figured it was shock and grief, but…” He shakes his head. “There’s one other thing I haven’t told you.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Neil, bracing himself for whatever his dad is about to say.</p>
<p>“That night, when Jean died, I was the first officer on scene.”</p>
<p>“I remember,” rasps Neil. “I was with you.”</p>
<p>“I was the one to take the initial statements from the Moriyamas; Kevin didn’t say anything, as I mentioned, but when I was questioning Tetsuji and Asuka, the buzzer for the washing machine went off.”</p>
<p>“So?”</p>
<p>“So, the Moriyamas have more than one maid. I’ll bet neither of them have ever washed a piece of clothing in their entire time living in that house. But it was the weekend and there was no staff in the house. Meaning that Tetsuji apparently had the urge to wash something for the first time in his life right after his son died.”</p>
<p>“Did you look in the washer?”</p>
<p>“Of course I did,” says his dad. “The only thing being washed—with a heavy amount of bleach, might I add—was Kevin’s lacrosse uniform.”</p>
<p>Neil reels back, hitting his head on the wall. “You don’t think—” he starts, before cutting himself off. Because now that the pieces have been laid out before him, he can put them together himself:</p>
<ol>
<li>Kevin arrives home before his parents. Jean’s already there. Jean’s been looking into something dangerous, something about their family. Maybe he tells Kevin about it. Maybe they argue about something else. Whatever it is, it stresses Kevin out enough that he has an episode, violently lashing out at Jean without conscious thought.</li>
<li>Tetsuji and Asuka arrive home to find that Kevin has killed Jean. They call Lola Malcolm to help them change the time of death. They make Kevin take a shower and change his clothes, while bleaching his bloody uniform.</li>
<li>In order to divert suspicion away from himself and his family, Tetsuji pays a dying man to confess to the crime. Some of Jean’s possessions are given to him to plant in his home. Lola Malcolm calls in a tip to the crime hotline so the police have cause to suspect DiMaccio.</li>
<li>Kevin’s future is protected. No one will ever know what he did. Neil wonders if he knows himself.</li>
</ol>
<p>Neil feels strong hands on his shoulders holding him steady and realizes that he’s almost blacking out from hyperventilating. His dad talks him through taking deep breaths, supporting him as he comes back to himself. He sinks down to the floor, his knees turning to jelly.</p>
<p>“Dad,” he croaks helplessly.</p>
<p>“I know,” replies his dad, sounding equally devastated.</p>
<p>“Kevin killed Jean,” says Neil, and lets himself cry.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You guys should count yourselves lucky... originally I had planned a month-long hiatus in posting after this chapter :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for this chapter: reference to non-consensual drugging, reference to rape, distribution of pornographic material without permission, blackmail, threatening actions, reference to murder/violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil drums his fingers on his keyboard, unable to keep his nerves under control. Ever since his epiphany last week about how Jean really died, he’s been avoiding Kevin. It hasn’t proven that difficult, as he was already keeping away from him for different reasons, but it feels different. He wonders for the umpteenth time about whether Kevin knows or suspects his role in Jean’s death. If he’s in the dark, Neil doesn’t particularly want to enlighten him; but if he’s aware and it’s eating at him then Neil wants to offer absolution (assuming his supposition that Kevin had a seizure and didn’t lose his temper is correct).</p>
<p>Mostly, Neil wants him to stay far away because Neil doesn’t know how to feel or how to act in his presence anymore.</p>
<p>Unluckily for him, today’s the day that his dad is going to tell Kevin that he’s his biological father. The DNA results confirmed what they already heavily suspected: Kayleigh had lied about Kevin’s parentage.</p>
<p>The door to Wymack Investigations is pushed open and Kevin appears, looking slightly ruffled. Neil grips a pencil so hard it breaks into pieces in his hand.</p>
<p>“Well?” asks Kevin, imperious and direct as usual. “Why did you call me here?”</p>
<p>Neil drops the pencil pieces and tries to pull himself into a semblance of control. He gestures at the seat across from him. “Take a seat,” he says, using the Professional Voice he copied from his dad. It’s the best voice for delivering bad news.</p>
<p>“Stop being dramatic, you’re making me worried,” complains Kevin, but he takes a seat.</p>
<p>“I know I told you I wasn’t able to find your father,” starts Neil, “but that wasn’t completely true. I hit a dead end, but recently found a way through it.”</p>
<p>Kevin leans forward, his eyes glittering with excitement. “You found him?”</p>
<p>“Before I say anything, I want you to really think about this,” instructs Neil. “This isn’t something you can ever unknow. You already have a father, the man who raised you. Take it from someone with experience: it’s sometimes better to be ignorant.”</p>
<p>“Like you’ve ever settled with not knowing something,” Kevin gripes. “Wait a sec. You found out who your father is?”</p>
<p>“That’s not the issue right now,” says Neil, annoyed at his slip up. Of course Kevin would be interested to know what Neil’s found out about his own parentage. “We’re talking about you. Do you really need to know who donated the sperm that made you?”</p>
<p>Kevin grimaces. “Thanks for the mental picture, but yes. I want to know. I <em>need</em> to know.”</p>
<p>Neil watches him for a couple beats before nodding decisively. He can see that Kevin is going to bulldoze his way through this with or without Neil’s help. “Alright,” he says, standing. He crosses the room and knocks on his dad’s doorframe. “Dad? Kevin’s here.”</p>
<p>His dad looks up from his computer. He takes a deep breath. “Send him in.”</p>
<p>Neil turns and gestures to Kevin, who is looking at him with bafflement.</p>
<p>“My father is the actual investigator here,” Neil explains. “He’s the one who figured it out.”</p>
<p>Kevin nods easily and heads into the office. Neil shuts the door behind him and returns to wait at his own desk, unable to concentrate on anything productive.</p>
<p>It feels like both an instant and an eternity before his dad’s office opens and Kevin rushes out, leaving the office without once glancing at Neil. Neil stands slowly and makes his way into the inner office, where his dad is sitting slumped over, cradling his head in his hands.</p>
<p>“Didn’t go well?” asks Neil, keeping his tone light.</p>
<p>“Could’ve gone better,” says his dad, sitting up straight. “Can you come here?” he asks, reaching for Neil. “I know you’re not big on hugs but I could use one right now, kiddo.”</p>
<p>Neil crosses the room quickly and lets his dad pull him into a bear hug, doing his best not to tense up or act awkward in any way. “I’ll be okay,” he says stiltedly, patting at his dad’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure that’s true,” sighs his dad. “But thanks for lying to me.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Neil, that’s crooked,” chides Dan. She points to where he’s hanging streamers. “Put the left side higher.”</p>
<p>“I can’t reach higher,” Neil gripes.</p>
<p>He’s not sure how he got roped into helping Dan, Matt, and other student council members decorate the gym for the upcoming Valentine’s Day dance. He has no interest in Valentine’s Day; especially not since it’s the one year anniversary of Jean’s death. He supposes that’s how he found himself in this situation—it’s easier to avoid his dark thoughts if he keeps busy. Plus, he’s found himself at loose ends for the past week without the mystery of Jean’s murder to drive him forward. There’s nothing more for him to do: he has no reason to expose Kevin, especially since that could cause the funds for Patrick DiMaccio’s chronically ill daughter to disappear.</p>
<p>“I don’t know why you’re hanging stuff anyway,” sighs Dan. “I’ll get Matt to do it; you go help Katelyn cut out paper hearts.”</p>
<p>Neil drops his decorations unceremoniously and trudges across the gymnasium to take a seat at the prep table across from Katelyn. She’s clearly glum, her eyes glazed and morose as she cuts heart shapes out of red and pink construction paper. She doesn’t even comment on his arrival or offer her usual friendly greeting.</p>
<p>“I, too, hate construction paper,” says Neil, picking up a stack of paper and stencils. “Have you figured out how to set fire to it using only your mind yet?”</p>
<p>“What? Oh,” startles Katelyn, glancing down at the paper in her hands. “Hi, Neil. Sorry, I was just spacing out.”</p>
<p>“No worries,” says Neil easily. “Anything I can help with?” That would give him a distraction, at least.</p>
<p>Katelyn’s quiet for a long while, chewing her lip thoughtfully and sneaking assessing glances at Neil. Eventually she sighs and her muscles seem to unknot, leaving her slumping. “You know my boyfriend, Paris?”</p>
<p>Neil hums noncommittally. He doesn’t know what she sees in that douchebag, but he knows better than to comment. ...<em>Usually</em> he knows when not to comment; he’s already made his opinion clear to her and he doesn’t have to repeat himself.</p>
<p>She seems to hear what he didn’t say anyway, her expression turning wry. “I tried to break up with him last fall, after the whole purity test thing.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Neil neutrally.</p>
<p>“And when I did, he showed me a video of me on his phone and said if I didn’t keep dating him he’d release it to the whole school.”</p>
<p>“Asshole,” says Neil vehemently. He flashes back to the first time he saw the video of Nicky kissing him, after Riko Moriyama has distributed it.</p>
<p>Katelyn waits. “Aren’t you going to ask me what the video is?”</p>
<p>“It’s not really any of my business if you don’t want to tell me,” says Neil. “I know what it’s like to have unwanted videos of moments you’re not particularly proud of shared without your permission.”</p>
<p>She flushes. “Of course; I forgot,” she apologizes. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>Neil waves her apology away. “Believe me, the more people forget about that the happier I am.”</p>
<p>“Understandable,” she says, a hint of dry humour showing through her unhappiness. She wrings her hands, clearly psyching herself up to tell him. “In the video, I’m… it’s in a hot tub… and I have a popsicle, and…I’m sucking on it—”</p>
<p>“I get the picture,” Neil interrupts, letting her off the hook.</p>
<p>“But I don’t remember doing it at all,” she protests. “I didn’t even drink that much at that party; I have no idea how I got like that.”</p>
<p>“I believe you,” he says, privately suspecting that her gold star boyfriend likely had something to do with it. “And now Paris is threatening to release the video?”</p>
<p>“I can’t spend the remainder of high school being known as the slutty popsicle girl,” she tells him earnestly. “Aaron offered to pay him off for me, but I don’t think that’ll help.”</p>
<p>“Aaron Minyard?” he checks, surprised. At least that explains Aaron’s two attempts last fall to get money independent of Andrew.</p>
<p>“He’s my lab partner in chemistry,” she nods. “He found me sobbing after Paris first showed me the video and the story just kind of spilled out. He’s been great.”</p>
<p>“Huh,” he says, trying to imagine Aaron being supportive. Or kind. Or anything other than annoyed and snide, basically. He fails. “You’re right that paying him off probably won’t work. Paris’ dad owns an airline, he’s not in need of money. He just wants to lord his power over you.”</p>
<p>Katelyn frowns. “Can you get his phone for me? The video is on it.”</p>
<p>“The problem with a digital file is that it’s really hard to delete,” says Neil sympathetically. “Even if I get his phone, he’s probably made backups.”</p>
<p>“Please, Neil,” she begs. “I’ve been dating him against my will for months now. I’m not going to last much longer. I haven’t had sex with him since, but he’s becoming insistent.” She shudders.</p>
<p>“I can get his phone, no problem,” says Neil. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up that all your problems will be solved if I do.”</p>
<p>“I know,” she says in a small voice.</p>
<p>“And, as someone who <em>has</em> had an incriminating slutty video of them distributed to the school, I just have to say: it sucks. It sucks a lot. But it does get better and pass eventually.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want it to come to that.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do my best to ensure that it doesn’t,” he promises.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil’s making out with Andrew on the roof. He tips his head back as Andrew sucks a mark over one of his collarbones.</p>
<p>“Not where anyone can see,” he hisses.</p>
<p>“Do I look like an idiot?” retorts Andrew.</p>
<p>“Depends on the day.”</p>
<p>Andrew rolls his eyes and takes a step back, lighting a cigarette. Neil cracks his neck and looks around. He can see the banner advertising the school dance just past the edge of the roof.</p>
<p>“I can’t help but notice you haven’t asked me to the dance yet,” teases Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew gives him a flat look.</p>
<p>“Is it because it’s a Sadie Hawkins dance and you’re waiting for me to ask? Do you consider me the girl in this relationship?”</p>
<p>“This isn’t a relationship,” replies Andrew instantly. “And neither of us are girls. That’s the point.”</p>
<p>“Well, I have to go, anyway,” says Neil. “I promised Dan I’d man the ticket booth. Maybe you can come too and we can stand close to each other in silence?”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to a school dance,” scoffs Andrew.</p>
<p>“What else are you going to do on a Monday night?”</p>
<p>“Anything other than that.”</p>
<p>“Aw, come on, please?” says Neil, batting his eyelashes.</p>
<p>Andrew goes completely still. “Don’t use that word.”</p>
<p>The smile drops off Neil’s face. “The last one I said?” he checks. He has a very good idea why that word might bother Andrew. Please is not a pretty word for someone with Andrew’s history.</p>
<p>Andrew nods roughly, blowing smoke out of his nose and avoiding looking in Neil’s direction.</p>
<p>“I won’t say it again,” promises Neil.</p>
<p>“Good,” says Andrew.</p>
<p>“Hey, do you have Katelyn’s number?” Neil asks. “I have to text her but I forgot to get it earlier.”</p>
<p>Andrew pauses for a second before nodding.</p>
<p>“Really? Why?” sputters Neil. He wasn’t expecting Andrew to have it.</p>
<p>“Aaron’s always hovering around her; I had to check if she’s a threat.”</p>
<p>“Your relationship with your brother is fucked up,” says Neil bluntly. “Here, give me your phone so I can copy it.”</p>
<p>Andrew doesn’t comply right away, appearing conflicted. Neil impatiently holds out his hand until Andrew drops his phone into it. Neil flips it open and freezes.</p>
<p>“Why,” he says slowly, “is your background a photo of me getting arrested?” It’s not a great angle but it clearly shows Neil being led away by sheriff Browning with his hands cuffed behind him.</p>
<p>Andrew clears his throat. “That’s the most attractive I’ve ever found you.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” mutters Neil. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? I can’t believe you.”</p>
<p>Andrew shrugs once, apparently unconcerned. “It was hot.”</p>
<p>“The handcuffs or the delinquency?” Neil shakes his head in disbelief as he copies the number. “You definitely owe me for this.”</p>
<p>“I owe you nothing,” says Andrew, pinning him to the wall again to kiss him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It’s as easy as Neil says to get Paris’ phone. After he leaves Andrew on the roof, he texts Katelyn to get her to text Paris when he’s in Neil’s sightline so Neil can see where he keeps his phone; once he sees where it is he purposefully trips into him, lifting his phone and replacing it with a burner. His mother taught him many things: sticky fingers is one of the more useful skills.</p>
<p>It won’t take long before Paris notices the switch, so Neil books it over to the other side of the school where Katelyn’s waiting in the science classroom. Aaron’s keeping her company; the way he’s looking at her when Neil enters the room indicates his interest isn’t completely altruistic chivalry and is hoping to gain something out of this.</p>
<p>“Did you get it?” asks Katelyn, jumping off the desk she was sitting on.</p>
<p>Aaron doesn’t look particularly happy about Neil’s general existence, but he nods grudging appreciation as Neil hands over the phone.</p>
<p>“As I said, there’s no way to ensure complete erasure of the file,” warns Neil. “He’ll possibly be able to get someone to recover it.”</p>
<p>“Not from this phone he won’t,” says Katelyn savagely, putting the phone upside down on the teacher’s desk and clobbering it with a several hundred page hardcover biology textbook. The phone’s completely unsalvageable when she’s finished, barely recognizable as a phone amid the pile of broken plastic and glass. “There,” she says nodding in satisfaction.</p>
<p>Katelyn’s phone rings. She blinks in confusion, glancing at the screen and shrugging when she clearly doesn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” All the colour drains from her face. “I don’t know what you’re—No, Paris, I didn’t—Why—” She slowly lowers her phone. “He found the burner,” she says unnecessarily. “He said it wasn’t his only copy of the video. And unless I apologize <em>persuasively</em> he’ll release it to everyone in school.”</p>
<p>Aaron growls in anger and reaches out to touch Katelyn’s shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically gentle to her as she expels a sigh and leans into his support.</p>
<p>“If I may?” says Neil. “I suggest blackmailing him back.”</p>
<p>Katelyn doesn’t say anything but Aaron looks up in interest. “How?”</p>
<p>Neil thinks, his mind whirring. “From personal experience, I would suggest outing a gay love affair he’s having.”</p>
<p>“But he’s not,” argues Katelyn.</p>
<p>“Easy enough to fake,” says Neil. “Call him with your <em>persuasive</em> apology. We can record the conversation and edit it so it sounds like he’s talking to me. One instant gay scandal. He’s tissue paper; he’ll wilt under the pressure.”</p>
<p>Aaron looks reluctantly impressed. “You’d do that?”</p>
<p>Neil shrugs. “It’s not like my reputation can get any worse. We could probably stage some photos to add visual evidence.”</p>
<p>“No,” says Katelyn, shaking her head. “I don’t like it.”</p>
<p>“You’re going to give in to him?” demands Aaron.</p>
<p>“No,” repeats Katelyn, straightening her spine. “I’m not. I’ve had enough of this. I’ve been bending for months, doing what he wants. If I keep it up, I’ll never get away from him.”</p>
<p>“Right…” says Neil slowly. “Hence the blackmail. Offer him mutually assured destruction: he ruins you, you ruin him.”</p>
<p>“That’s not who I am,” says Katelyn, her chin tilted at a defiant angle. “He deserves it, but I don’t want to let him make me into someone who would do that.”</p>
<p>“So what are you going to do?” asks Aaron.</p>
<p>“I’m going to dump him,” says Katelyn. “Harshly and publicly. And then I’m going to deal with the consequences.” She strides from the room, all traces of sadness gone, her spine completely straight with righteous anger.</p>
<p>“God, she’s amazing,” mutters Aaron. He shoots Neil a look and follows her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Here you go,” says Matt, handing over a red solo cup of soda.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” says Neil, taking it from him and swallowing a mouthful to wet his parched throat.</p>
<p>“Having a good time?” asks Matt, dropping into the chair beside Neil’s.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes,” replies Neil sarcastically. “Collecting tickets while awkward teenagers sway to last decade’s music in the background is a very stimulating pastime.”</p>
<p>“I thought Lydia was supposed to be here with you?”</p>
<p>“I sent her away so she could have fun,” says Neil. “And so she’d leave me in peace for five minutes.” Lydia Shetfield really has too much to say, mostly about Palmetto High’s softball team. Neil’s glad for the silence.</p>
<p>“I could stay here with you,” offers Matt, although his entire demeanour indicates he doesn’t want to. “Or I could take over while you go have fun.”</p>
<p>Neil looks around the gym, catching sight of people he has no desire to ever associate with, who have gone out of their way to make his life miserable, such as Marissa Sinclair and Ricky Williams.</p>
<p>“Nah, you go on,” he urges Matt. “Go romance Dan. Show her all your mad dancing skillz.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “That’s skillz with a z.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, buddy,” laughs Matt, dropping a smacking kiss into Neil’s hair.</p>
<p>Neil chuckles as Matt scoots away, pulling out his phone to check for any texts. No one’s sent him anything; he’s not sure why that makes his stomach twist.</p>
<p>He looks up at a throat clearing and finds Katelyn, glammed up but fidgeting nervously. He doesn’t blame her clear discomfort: her winner of an ex distributed the video of her mere hours after she dumped him.</p>
<p>“Katelyn,” he says, hastily shoving his phone out of sight. “I wasn’t expecting you to come.”</p>
<p>“I bought a ticket,” she says crisply. “And maybe I’m Palmetto High’s newest slutty amateur film star, but I’m not letting that stop me doing the things I want.”</p>
<p>“As Palmetto High’s slightly older slutty amateur film star, I salute you,” says Neil, giving her a little mock salute.</p>
<p>Katelyn huffs. “I don’t know how you do it.”</p>
<p>“I don’t have much of a choice,” Neil points out. “Besides, it’s high school. I’ve been reliably informed that there is life after high school and that it gets better.”</p>
<p>“I know. I just wish I’d never gone to Janie’s stupid party.”</p>
<p>“You and me both,” says Neil. Her words hit him a second later and he sits up straight. “Wait, what?”</p>
<p>She looks taken aback by his reaction. “Janie Smalls’ spring party last year?” she says, sounding confused. “That’s where the video was taken. Didn’t you watch it?”</p>
<p>“Of course I didn’t,” says Neil, offended. “So our videos were taken the same night? You have no memory of that party either?” It can’t be a coincidence.</p>
<p>Katelyn falters. “I didn’t… do you think it’s connected?”</p>
<p>“I know I was roofied that night,” says Neil grimly, “and I think it’s likely you were, too. Probably by your class act of an ex.”</p>
<p>“That… that bastard!” cries Katelyn. “I’m going to… going to… I don’t even know, but it’s going to be violent.”</p>
<p>“Preach,” says a new voice, coming from Neil’s left. He turns to find Allison Reynolds and Renee Walker approaching.</p>
<p>Allison wraps an arm around Katelyn. “Come, let’s go be fabulous together,” she says. “I’m sure your piece of shit ex will get what’s coming to him.”</p>
<p>Renee takes Katelyn’s other arm and leads her away. Neil watches as the three of them make their way across the decorated gym, stares and whispers following in their wake. He rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He was so goddamn sick of high school. There’s far too much drama.</p>
<p>As if trying to inject even more melodrama into the evening, Kevin suddenly materializes. He’s clearly been drinking as he trips through the entrance to the gym, his shirt collar rucked up and his tie askew. He squints around the room and makes a (very wobbly) beeline for Neil.</p>
<p>Kevin shouts, “How could you?!” before he gets there, causing everyone in hearing distance to swivel their heads around to watch what’s sure to be a train wreck. Kevin points an accusing finger in what’s probably supposed to be Neil’s direction, but wavers towards a point several feet to his left.</p>
<p>“Alright, Kevin,” says Neil, hopping up out of his chair and approaching Kevin cautiously. “No need to make a scene.”</p>
<p>“No need to—no <em>need</em> to…” Kevin sputters.</p>
<p>“Let’s just go out into the hallway,” says Neil, gripping his elbow and turning him around. “We can talk out there.”</p>
<p>Kevin is unexpectedly docile, letting Neil steer him away from the gawking bystanders and out into a quiet part of the building. Neil props him against a bank of lockers and backs away.</p>
<p>“So it turns out my dad is your dad,” says Neil, getting right to the meat of the likely issue. “I call top bunk?” he jokes weakly.</p>
<p>Kevin gapes. “How can you—how long did you hide this from me?! You <em>said</em> you didn’t know.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t, not for certain,” says Neil. “And it wasn’t my right to tell you.”</p>
<p>“But I <em>paid</em> you,” hisses Kevin.</p>
<p>“And I didn’t deposit your cheque, now did I?” returns Neil. “I have my principles.”</p>
<p>“How very noble of you,” sneers Kevin. “It’s not like you haven’t done worse for money.”</p>
<p>“Oh, so I’m a whore now?” demands Neil. “Fuck you, Kevin. Go sleep it off.”</p>
<p>Kevin takes a step towards him, crowding him backwards and towering over him. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he says, his voice low and threatening.</p>
<p>A chill goes up Neil’s spine. He’s never been frightened of Kevin before, but knowing about his episodes… He wonders if Kevin’s blank and angry face was the last thing Jean ever saw.</p>
<p>He holds out a placating hand. “Calm down, Kevin,” he said, softening his stance and tone. “You’re upset, I know. Today’s been hard for me, too. It’s a year since Jean died.”</p>
<p>“Don’t talk about it!” cries Kevin. “You don’t have a right to talk about him, after what <em>that man</em> did to my family! What he tried to accuse my father of doing!”</p>
<p>“Hey, that’s my dad you’re talking about,” warns Neil.</p>
<p>“No, he’s not,” says Kevin meanly. “And be glad he’s not, cause otherwise that would make the two of us brothers.”</p>
<p>“Fine, good point,” says Neil. “But it could be much worse, believe me.” He thinks about finding out about his own father.</p>
<p>“It can’t be!” yells Kevin. “After what he’s done to my family? After he tried to frame my father for murder? And for what? Some weird leftover vendetta because my mom loved my dad more?”</p>
<p>“Get your head out of your ass,” snarls Neil. “He went after your father because of all the lies he told and the way he tampered with the crime scene.”</p>
<p>“Tampered with—? Why would he tamper with the crime scene?” asks Kevin shrilly. “He loved Jean. He was devastated when he found out DiMaccio killed him.”</p>
<p>“DiMaccio didn’t kill Jean,” says Neil carefully; Kevin deserves to know, but he’s not sure how much he should tell him. “He’s got terminal cancer and accepted a large sum of money for his sick daughter.”</p>
<p>Kevin goes white. “How do you know that?” he whispers.</p>
<p>“PI, remember?”</p>
<p>“It makes no sense,” argues Kevin. “Who would possibly pay him that much money to…” He trails off, a look of understanding crossing his face. His eyes flash.</p>
<p>“Kevin,” says Neil. “Keep calm.”</p>
<p>“You agree with your dad? You think we did it,” says Kevin. “That we paid him off. What, you think my father killed Jean then paid off DiMaccio to take the fall?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know who killed Jean, not for certain,” says Neil. “I only know DiMaccio didn’t do it.”</p>
<p>Kevin scoffs. “You really think my father did it, don’t you?” he asks incredulously. “You think he took an ashtray and bashed Jean’s head in.” He swings his arm in demonstration and Neil flinches back.</p>
<p>“What was that?” asks Kevin, eyes narrowing. “You’re scared of <em>me</em> now?”</p>
<p>“I—no,” protests Neil. “But I know about your epilepsy.”</p>
<p>“My… how?”</p>
<p>“It’s not important,” says Neil. “But I know emotional stress can cause episodes, so calm the fuck down.”</p>
<p>Kevin’s face passes from confusion to realization to anger. “You think <em>I</em> killed Jean,” he says incredulously. “You think I killed him and I’m gonna go psycho and kill you, too?!” He takes another menacing step forward as Neil cringes away from him.</p>
<p>“Kevin,” says a sharp voice. “Step away from him.”</p>
<p>Kevin blanches and looks over at Andrew, who’s eyeing their tense standoff. He stalks forward and pushes against Kevin’s chest, causing him to take a step back, and casually inserts himself between them, his back to Neil. It’s reminiscent of their standoff with Neil’s mother.</p>
<p>Neil can’t see his expression, but Kevin wilts under his stare. “I wasn’t going to do anything,” he says, almost sullenly.</p>
<p>“Go take a walk,” advises Andrew. “I’ll take you home in a moment.”</p>
<p>Kevin nods rapidly and backs up even more, before turning and stumbling away.</p>
<p>Andrew turns to Neil. “You okay?” he asks in an undertone. “That seemed a little intense.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” says Neil shortly, watching Kevin’s retreating back. He’s quaking inside; he’s never seen Kevin’s eyes so cold before. “Have you ever seen him get like that before?”</p>
<p>“Once,” replies Andrew, after a pause. “I was over at his place last year and I heard him shouting. When I went to see what was up, he had his father pushed against the wall and his face was completely blank.” He passes a hand over his face in demonstration. “No one home. A couple seconds later, he blinked and he was himself again.”</p>
<p>“Around when Jean died?” Neil asks.</p>
<p>“No, it was earlier than that. About a week or so before you two broke up.”</p>
<p>Neil wonders what Tetsuji Moriyama had said to his son that upset him so much. Was it the reason Kevin had dumped him? He shakes himself and looks at Andrew. “Where did you come from, anyway? Why are you here?” He takes in his slightly-nicer-than-usual clothing. “Are you here for the dance?”</p>
<p>Andrew avoids eye contact. “You invited me,” he mutters.</p>
<p>“Aw, did you come to stand near me in silence?” Neil asks delightedly.</p>
<p>Andrew doesn’t answer.</p>
<p>“Okay, we should—no,” Neil cuts himself off. “<em>You</em> should go after Kevin—he definitely doesn’t want to see me right now—to make sure he’s not drunkenly doing something he’ll regret. He’s not in a great place right now… you know, cause of the anniversary.”</p>
<p>“How are you handling it?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” says Neil, trying to sound as convincing as possible. Based on Andrew’s flat expression he doesn’t succeed. “It’s better if I’m distracted,” he amends. “So go deal with Kevin and come distract me later.”</p>
<p>Andrew studies him for another couple moments before nodding once. He gives a cursory glance around and then pushes against the lockers behind him and kisses him. “Don’t let anyone break your face,” he says, turning to follow after Kevin.</p>
<p>Neil sighs and presses a hand against his chest, trying to force everything down. It feels like a peach pit is caught in his lungs. After taking a moment to compose himself, he returns to the gym, ignoring all the curious looks he gets.</p>
<p>He flops into his chair at the ticket table and chugs down the soda Matt brought to him earlier. There’s a strange, overly sweet chemical aftertaste to it but he doesn’t drink pop often enough to know if he’s just forgotten how cloying it can be.</p>
<p>It takes a few more minutes, but his vision starts to go blurry around the edges, indicating that, no, that’s not how coke is supposed to taste. He’s suddenly taken back to Janie Smalls’ party and the loss of control.</p>
<p>“Not again,” he moans, fumbling for his phone. He needs his dad. He needs to get home. He needs…</p>
<p>He stumbles out of the gym and into the hallways, heading toward the parking lot, trying to get to safety before anyone can touch him. He stabs at his phone, unable to focus on the buttons or the screen.</p>
<p>“Help me,” he grits out, upon hearing someone tinnily say his name.</p>
<p>He’s almost reached his car, but his legs are starting to feel like they’re stuck in quickly-drying cement. He keeps his eyes on his destination and forces himself forwards. He needs to go home where it’s safe.</p>
<p>His vision is tunnelling when he gets to his car, but his fingers feel like sausages trying to fish his keys out of his pocket. He drops them, like a damsel in a horror movie, and swears as he drops to his knees to find them.</p>
<p>He hears shoes clicking on the pavement behind him but he can’t summon up the energy to turn his head. Darkness overtakes his sight and he slumps to the ground, unconscious.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil’s arms are pinned to his sides when he wakes. He thrashes for freedom.</p>
<p>“Whoa, kid, calm down,” says a deep voice that settles the panic inside him. “You’re home. You’re safe.”</p>
<p>“Dad?” whimpers Neil, still trying to free himself from what’s restricting his movement. He opens his eyes and immediately regrets it, the light piercing directly into his brain. He leans to the side of the couch he’s on and vomits.</p>
<p>There’s a hand on the back of his neck and a soothing rumble of nonsense words. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”</p>
<p>Neil untangles himself from the blanket holding him down and grasps the plastic garbage can being held in front of his face, resting his cheek on the cool plastic. He takes several deep breaths and the nausea passes.</p>
<p>“Done now?” asks his dad, stroking his sweaty hair.</p>
<p>“Think so,” Neil manages. His dad leaves his side, taking the garbage bin with him.</p>
<p>Neil opens his eyes again, this time more cautiously, and takes in his surroundings. He’s on the living room couch, morning light peeking through the front blinds. Andrew is curled up in his dad’s favourite armchair, wrapped in a blanket and watching him silently. Beside him is Backup, his single eye filled with doggy concern.</p>
<p>His dad returns, bringing back the now-clean garbage can and a bottle of cool water. He helps Neil sit up and cracks open the bottle for him. Then he takes a seat and lets Neil lean heavily against his side.</p>
<p>“What happened?” croaks Neil.</p>
<p>“We were hoping you’d tell us,” says his dad, his tone completely void of emotion. Neil recognizes it as his detached policeman voice.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember,” says Neil. “There was something in my drink? I was trying to get home.”</p>
<p>“It would have been safer to stay put,” says his dad. “Whoever did this to you would have a harder time getting to you if you weren’t alone.”</p>
<p>“But they didn’t get to me,” says Neil. “You did.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t,” corrects his dad. “Andrew did.”</p>
<p>Neil squints over at him. He looks terrible, haggard and dishevelled, with dark bags under his eyes. Neil wonders if he spent the whole night in the chair. It can’t be comfortable.</p>
<p>“How did you know?” he asks.</p>
<p>“You called me,” says Andrew, his voice scratchy.</p>
<p>Neil tries to remember, his thought processes sluggish. “I was trying to call you,” he tells his dad. “I must have hit the wrong speed dial.”</p>
<p>“Do you have any idea who did this to you?” asks his dad, his tone still completely neutral.</p>
<p>“...No,” says Neil slowly. There are too many people who dislike him for him to easily narrow it down.</p>
<p>“What about whoever locked you in your trunk last month?” Andrew asks.</p>
<p>His dad’s arm around him tenses and squeezes him tightly. “When what happened?” he asks, not quite achieving the same neutrality as before.</p>
<p>“That was a prank,” says Neil. “It was probably that asshole Engel. He’s got it out for me since I got him arrested.”</p>
<p>“Neil, this is serious,” says his dad. “Someone attacked you last night and if Andrew hadn’t found you in time, who knows what might have happened.”</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” says Neil stubbornly. “Nothing happened.”</p>
<p>His dad sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, we’ll talk about it later,” he says. “Take a nap. I’ll call you out of school.”</p>
<p>“Wait, no,” says Neil. “I have to hand in a history paper.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure your teacher will understand.”</p>
<p>“Mr. Reacher is the least understanding human on the planet,” says Neil. “I can’t risk letting my mark drop in his class.”</p>
<p>His dad doesn’t look convinced.</p>
<p>“I’ll go in, hand in the paper, and come straight home. I promise,” swears Neil. “You can even drive me if you want.”</p>
<p>“Your car’s still at school, so you’ll need a ride anyway,” says his dad.</p>
<p>“I’ll take him,” offers Andrew.</p>
<p>His dad looks back and forth between them and relents. “Fine,” he says. “But you come straight back home and we’re having a discussion about this tonight.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” says Neil, struggling to his feet. “Sounds fun.”</p>
<p>“And if anything else happens to you I’m going to lock you inside until you’re forty, do you hear me? Be careful.”</p>
<p>“I’m always careful,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Somehow that doesn’t fill me with confidence,” sighs his dad.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The ride to school is slightly awkward. Andrew’s jaw is set and he won’t look directly at Neil.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I hit the wrong speed dial,” says Neil. “But, it’s your own fault for putting it in my phone. I can change it if you want.”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” says Andrew. He doesn’t elaborate.</p>
<p>“Uh, thanks for finding me, I guess. And taking me home.”</p>
<p>“Who did it.” Andrew’s voice is very controlled.</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Don’t lie to me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not,” says Neil. “I haven’t got a clue. Did <em>you</em> see anyone before you found me?”</p>
<p>“I saw someone moving around, which is why I was near your car. I didn’t get a good look at them; I thought it might be you until I saw you on the ground.”</p>
<p>“So no one particularly tall, then,” muses Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew doesn’t say anything more until they reach the school. “I’ll go pick up breakfast while you hand in your paper.” He meets Neil’s eyes. “Do not make me regret leaving you alone.”</p>
<p>“I’m not a child,” complains Neil.</p>
<p>“In the past month and a half, your mother has tried to kidnap you, I found you stuffed in your own trunk, and you were roofied,” Andrew says dryly. “You clearly need supervision.”</p>
<p>“Well, when you put it like that,” Neil grumbles, getting out of the car. “But I’ll be <em>fine</em>.”</p>
<p>Andrew doesn’t look convinced, but he eases his car away as Neil heads into school.</p>
<p>It’s early enough that no one is around yet, so he’s surprised to find he’s not alone in the quad. There’s an unhappy figure duct taped to the flagpole. The word SCUM is written across his chest. </p>
<p>Neil grins widely when he recognizes Katelyn’s douchey ex-boyfriend. Apparently Allison had insider information about Paris getting what was coming to him. “Paris!” he says happily. “This really couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. I see Seth’s gotten better at spelling. Hooked on Phonics really helped him out.”</p>
<p>“Ha ha,” says Paris angrily. “Cut me down, will you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t see why I should,” says Neil. “The bikers put you up here for a reason. Probably because you’re scum.”</p>
<p>“Look, I can pay you,” offers Paris.</p>
<p>“I’m guessing that has solved all your problems in the past,” says Neil. “But no. I want something else from you.”</p>
<p>“Anything,” says Paris desperately. “Just get me down before anyone else sees me.”</p>
<p>“Where did you get the rohypnol on the night of Janie Smalls’ party?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t—”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you roofied your girlfriend,” interrupts Neil. “Super classy there, pal.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t roofies,” Paris protests. “It was GHB.”</p>
<p>“Which is <em>so</em> much better,” tsks Neil. “Who gave it to you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t…”</p>
<p>“Do you want to stay up here or not?” threatens Neil. “Where did you get the GHB?”</p>
<p>“It was Andrew Spear,” blurts Paris.</p>
<p>Neil freezes, his face going completely slack. “What?”</p>
<p>“He was the one giving out GHB at the party,” says Paris. “Said it was a good way to force someone to spill their secrets.”</p>
<p>Neil turns and walks away numbly, ignoring Paris’ shouts to cut him down. If Andrew had been the one with drugs the night of Janie’s party, did that mean he was the one who drugged Neil? Was he responsible for everything that had happened to Neil that night?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for this chapter: discussion of past non-consensual drugging, past non-consensual kissing</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Neil hands in his assignment on autopilot and heads out of school in a daze, he finds Andrew sitting on the hood of his car eating a bear claw. There’s a paper bag beside him from Neil’s favourite local diner, sure to be filled with the greasy breakfast sandwich and hash browns he swears by, because Andrew knows him and can be surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be. Neil shoves that thought down, trying to dredge up anger instead. His brain feels like it’s filled with honey, liquid and syrupy slow.</p><p>Andrew slides off his car as Neil approaches, his hazel eyes sharp and assessing. “What happened?” he asks instantly, reaching for Neil.</p><p>Neil flinches back.</p><p>Andrew’s jaw tightens. “Who?” he asks dangerously.</p><p>“I don’t know,” says Neil dully. “It depends.”</p><p>“On what?” Andrew’s hackles are up, surveying the student parking lot as if someone might attack them.</p><p>“On whether you’re the one you gave me GHB the night I was drugged and assaulted.” Neil’s proud that his voice doesn’t waver.</p><p>Andrew does, swaying on his feet as if he’s taken a blow. “You were drugged?” he asks.</p><p>“You can’t be surprised,” argues Neil. “You’ve presumably seen the video of me and Nicky. It’s a little out of character for me, no?”</p><p>“I didn’t know—”</p><p>“I don’t care. Did you or did you not drug me?” asks Neil, and oh yes, there’s the anger he was looking for before.</p><p>“You think I would do that,” says Andrew.</p><p>“Why not? It’s not like we were friends at the time. Besides, Paris Richards claims you said something about prying secrets out of someone, and you’ve threatened me with that more than once.”</p><p>Andrew crosses his arms over his chest. “Because Paris Richards is so reliable?” he asks snidely. “Are you next going to suggest I also drugged you last night?”</p><p>“You don’t get to act offended,” snaps Neil. “At least until you offer a denial or explanation.”</p><p>Andrew doesn’t answer for long enough that Neil suspects he won’t say anything. “I was in possession of Liquid X the night of Janie’s party,” he eventually admits. “One dose. I gave it to Richards cause I owed him and he wouldn’t accept payment in the form of a blowjob.”</p><p>“You owed him?”</p><p>“He’d spotted me Crackers at a party a couple weeks earlier.”</p><p>“And he wanted a way to drug his girlfriend in return?”</p><p>“I don’t know what he wanted it for. I assumed he was going to a rave.”</p><p>“Where’d you even get it?”</p><p>“Tijuana,” says Andrew. “I was there the weekend before for Easter with Aaron and Nicky.”</p><p>“And did they <em>also</em> happen to acquire any GHB in Tijuana?” Neil’s sarcasm is sharp enough to cut.</p><p>Andrew looks away, his eyes set and hard. “Yes,” he says precisely. “One dose each.”</p><p>“Fantastic,” snarks Neil. He’s not surprised about Aaron, but the news about Nicky hits him hard. This is precisely why he swore off getting friendly with people at the beginning of the school year; they only let you down. “Do you happen to know what either of them did with theirs?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Neil nods his head rapidly and wraps his arms around himself, feeling exposed. “Thanks for the lift to school,” he says stiffly. “But I’ll drive myself home. Don’t worry yourself about me.”</p><p>He ignores the way Andrew calls his name as he heads over to his car, mind buzzing like a beehive. He peels out of the parking lot, trying not to notice how Andrew watches him go, looking small and dejected.</p>
<hr/><p>He takes a shower as soon as he gets home, turning the water as close to scalding as he can stand. His skin turns pink as he scrubs it harshly, trying to get all traces of last night off of him.</p><p>He collapses into his bed, wedged between Backup and the wall and wishes he could fall into a dreamless sleep to shut his mind up. He’s not successful. He stares blankly at the ceiling while Backup snores softly beside him.</p><p>He must fall asleep at some point because he jerks awake to the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. He sits up, yawns and stretches, and checks the time. It’s after five.</p><p>He wanders into the kitchen, scrubbing a hand through his bedhead. “You know better than to touch—” he trails off as soon as he realizes it’s not his dad. “Hello, Ms. Winfield,” he says after a pause that’s long enough to be awkward.</p><p>“I know this whole situation is weird, Neil,” she replies, “but you absolutely cannot call me that outside of school. Please, at least try to call me Abby.”</p><p>“I’ll attempt it,” he says, taking a seat at the counter. He feels self-conscious in his pyjama pants and old t-shirt. “Um,” he clears his throat, “there’s no way to ask this without sounding rude, but what are you doing here?”</p><p>“Your dad had some stuff to do at work and he didn’t want you to be alone,” she replies. “I figured I might as well feed you some real food for once.” She grins at him conspiratorially. “Has he always been such a disaster in the kitchen?”</p><p>“Always,” says Neil fervently. “I learned to cook mostly out of self defense.”</p><p>Abby laughs and then turns back to the pot on the stove to stir what appears to be spaghetti sauce. “I think your father also hopes you’ll speak to me about what happened to you last night,” she says carefully.</p><p>Neil groans and buries his head in his arms. “I don’t know what happened,” he says, muffled. “I wasn’t lying to him or hiding anything. I have no idea who would do that to me.”</p><p>“How are you feeling about it?” she asks.</p><p>“Super great,” says Neil sarcastically. “You know, it might not have anything to do with me. It could have been random. There were lots of unattended drinks last night.”</p><p>“I know,” Abby concedes. “But unless you come forward to report it, there’s nothing the school can do.”</p><p>Neil snorts in disdain. “Report it to who, the sheriff?” he asks. “That’s not going to have an effect.”</p><p>“You may have a point,” she says gently. “But as a school employee I have a duty to report.”</p><p>“You go ahead and do that,” says Neil. “Nothing’s going to come of it.”</p><p>“I agree the sheriff will probably ignore or brush off the complaint,” she admits. “I think you should still speak to someone about it, if only for yourself. I have a friend who’s a therapist—”</p><p>“Nope,” Neil cuts her off. “Nuh uh. No way.”</p><p>“I figured that would be your response,” she says wryly.</p><p>“I’m fine,” protests Neil.</p><p>“I’m a little surprised that you’re not already investigating,” Abby teases. “You always have your nose in whatever’s going on.”</p><p>“If I don’t know what happened, it can’t hurt me, right?” says Neil quietly, feeling more vulnerable than he meant to.</p><p>“Aw, honey,” she replies, her voice and eyes filled with sympathy. “You know that’s not true.”</p>
<hr/><p>Neil walks determinedly into school the next morning, dodging the assholes throwing a football around in the quad and sidestepping all the clumps of people in the pre-homeroom congregation of students in the hallways. He bypasses his own locker on the way to his target, turning two more corners until he sees him.</p><p>Ms. Winfield’s (or “Abby’s”, ugh he’s going to have to get used to that) words burned a hole in his thoughts all night. He’s shoved down what happened to him because he knows the only way to figure out exactly what went on is to question the people present at the party and he has no desire to discuss it. But someone hurt him and he needs to make them pay, the same way he got back at Riko for his role in distributing the video that outed him. He needs to know, even if the person who drugged him was Andrew, the very thought of which makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.</p><p>Neil makes a beeline for Nicky.</p><p>“Hey, Neil,” he greets, before squawking as Neil grabs him by his elbow and propels him into the nearest empty classroom.</p><p>“Sit,” says Neil, pushing Nicky at a desk. He paces in front of him as Nicky warily sits.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Nicky asks.</p><p>“You know, I’ve helped you out a couple times this year,” says Neil heatedly. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt and tried to be the bigger person about the fact that you kissed me without consent. I mean, I should have known better. Last year taught me not to trust any of you, but I’m apparently much stupider than I thought I was.” He hops up to sit on the teacher’s desk and crosses his arms, glaring down at Nicky.</p><p>Nicky squirms. “I don’t know what this is about—”</p><p>“Remember when I told you I was drugged the night of Janie Smalls’ spring party?” Neil interrupts.</p><p>“Yeah…” says Nicky slowly.</p><p>“Don’t you think it might have been pertinent information that you were in the possession of GHB that night?”</p><p>“...Oh,” says Nicky quietly.</p><p>“Yeah, <em>oh</em>,” mocks Neil. “Why didn’t you happen to mention that, I wonder?”</p><p>“It’s not what you think,” Nicky blurts hurriedly. “I didn’t drug you.”</p><p>“But you had GHB,” Neil points out. “And you knew your cousins did, too.”</p><p>Nicky stares down at the desk, his face ashamed. “Yeah.” The word is barely audible.</p><p>“So tell me, Nicky, what <em>did</em> you do with your dose of GHB?”</p><p>Nicky sighs and slumps. “I was planning on taking it myself. I figured, it makes you horny, right? With lowered inhibitions? I thought if I took it, I could finally convince myself to have sex with a girl, maybe cure myself.”</p><p>“That is a terrible plan that absolutely wouldn’t have worked,” says Neil mercilessly.</p><p>“I know!” cries Nicky, then, softer, “I know.”</p><p>“You said you were planning on it. What did you do with it instead?”</p><p>Nicky bites his lip. “I slipped it into Kevin’s drink.”</p><p>“You what?”</p><p>“He was just so sad after Jean… Well. He just spent all his time for months staring glumly and being morose. I wanted him to have at least one night of fun.”</p><p>“Non-consensual sex fun?” Neil grits out.</p><p>“No,” mutters Nicky. “Like dancing and not being self-conscious for once.” He looks up at Neil. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I had nothing to do with drugging you, I swear.”</p><p>“I’m not sure what a promise from you is worth,” says Neil brutally, hopping off the teacher’s desk and heading for the door.</p><p>“Neil?” asks Nicky timidly. “We’re okay, aren’t we? We can still be friends?”</p><p>Neil pauses and thinks. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, and leaves the classroom without a backwards glance.</p>
<hr/><p>Neil’s a little nervous walking into his first period journalism class, not wanting to see either Andrew or Kevin, but thankfully neither of them are there. He momentarily wonders if Andrew is going to be able to graduate at the end of the year, given how much class he’s missed. But his parents will probably bribe his way out of high school and it’s not like he is behind. He outscored Neil on the pre-Christmas history exam, for god’s sake. He’s always scored high on any test that required little more than rote memorization.</p><p>Neil has chemistry second period and he takes the opportunity to corner Aaron. “Hey, remember when I saved you from a roided up drug dealer and you offered me a lifetime of gratitude in your relief?” he asks.</p><p>“That’s not how I remember it,” says Aaron, trying to push past him.</p><p>“Okay, well how about the fact that I know that you had GHB the night the girl you wanna date was drugged?” Neil keeps his tone light and friendly. “Have you told Katelyn about that? Does she know that her scumbag ex got the drugs from your twin brother?”</p><p>Aaron grimaces. “I didn’t know he got them from Andrew.”</p><p>“But you knew it had to be Nicky or Andrew, right?” presses Neil.</p><p>“It could have been someone else,” says Aaron mulishly.</p><p>“Sure, because you guys didn’t have to make a special trip to get it. It just materialized conveniently, right?”</p><p>Aaron stops trying to push past him. “What do you want,” he says in resignation, not making eye contact.</p><p>“I want to know what you did with your dose of the drugs during the party.”</p><p>“I took it myself,” says Aaron unconvincingly, fidgeting.</p><p>Neil sighs, big and exaggerated. “If you’re going to lie, could you at least put a little effort into it?” he asks. “Otherwise it’s just insulting.”</p><p>“I thought the three of us were going to take it together,” Aaron mumbles.</p><p>“Cause getting extra horny with your family members is a good time?” says Neil.</p><p>“Fuck you,” snarls Aaron. “Andrew said it was for a rave. So I figured we’d all go together and drop the liquid X.”</p><p>“Considering how against you taking drugs Andrew was at the poker game, I’m surprised he was so lax about it,” muses Neil.</p><p>Aaron flushes angrily. “Different drugs,” he snaps. “Oxy, and Andrew didn’t find out about it until this past summer. Which is when he started his unwanted guard dog routine, accounting for all my purchases.”</p><p>“Interesting but irrelevant,” says Neil, steering them back on topic. “What did you do with the drugs you had on the night of Janie Smalls’ party, if you didn’t take them yourself?”</p><p>Aaron exhales. “I gave them to Nicky.”</p><p>Neil pauses. “Did he know?”</p><p>“No,” says Aaron shortly. “He was all whiny that night. I thought he’d be better once we took the drugs, but then he told me he gave his away. So I dosed my own drink and switched them when he wasn’t paying attention to cheer him up.”</p><p>“Okay, first of all, you people have very strange ideas about how to cheer people up,” drawls Neil. “Here’s a hint: it’s not drugging them without their consent.”</p><p>Aaron shrugs. “Seemed pretty happy later.” He gives Neil a once over. “Although his taste left something to be desired.”</p><p>Neil sneers at him in disgust. “You had no problem with that? Knowing he wasn’t capable of consent?”</p><p>“Everyone gets drunk and high and makes out with people they regret,” Aaron justifies.</p><p>“No, they don’t,” sputters Neil. “Does Katelyn know you’re so cavalier about drugging people?”</p><p>“You promised you weren’t going to tell her,” Aaron argues.</p><p>“I said no such thing,” Neil says. “If I were you, I’d tell her yourself. Take it from me, finding out about it later from a third party is pretty crappy. Even if you have a chance with her, you’ll lose it.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t dare,” hisses Aaron.</p><p>“Why not?” taunts Neil, backing away. “Doesn’t she deserve to know what kind of guy you really are?”</p>
<hr/><p>At lunch, Neil finds his usual table invaded. Along with his regular companions, Dan and Matt, it seems that Allison and Renee have decided to join them.</p><p>“What’s this?” he asks.</p><p>“Be nice,” admonishes Dan.</p><p>“I am nice,” argues Neil.</p><p>Allison laughs in amusement. “You’re a catty bitch,” she corrects. “It’s the only reason I’ll have anything to do with you.”</p><p>“We’ve been branching out,” says Matt, sounding a little huffy. Neil eyes him curiously. “You would have noticed if you hadn’t ditched us so much recently.”</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil, abruptly feeling shitty. He <em>has</em> been spending a lot of lunch hours secretly making out with Andrew.</p><p>“Like on Monday,” continues Matt. “You just disappeared from the dance. Where did you go?”</p><p>“Uhhhh…” says Neil. He doesn’t want his friends to needlessly worry like his dad; he doesn’t think he could handle that much smothering. “Just, uh, had a fight with Kevin and needed some air.”</p><p>“Really?” drawls Matt. “So you vanishing and missing school yesterday has nothing to do with Ms. Winfield reporting to Vice Principal Whittier that a student was drugged at the dance?”</p><p>“Fuck,” says Neil. “Damn your wily office aide ways. Fine; yes, I was drugged.”</p><p>Everyone at the table stares at him, before they all burst into speech simultaneously.</p><p>“I didn’t think it was actually <em>you</em>!” exclaims Matt.</p><p>“By who?” demands Dan dangerously.</p><p>“Are you okay?” asks Renee.</p><p>“Like, seriously drugged or given a pot brownie?” says Allison. Matt and Dan shoot her disapproving looks. “What? There’s a big difference.”</p><p>“I think it was rohypnol,” admits Neil. “I passed out in the parking lot. It’s nothing to worry about.”</p><p>“Let’s agree to strongly disagree about that,” says Matt. “What happened then?”</p><p>“Andrew found me and took me home,” says Neil, taking a big bite of his sandwich to forestall any questions. His tactic doesn’t work.</p><p>Dan glances at the others. “You sure it wasn’t Andrew who drugged you in the first place?” she asks delicately. “We all know he’s more than a little unstable.”</p><p>“I can’t imagine Andrew would do that to Neil,” says Renee mildly.</p><p>“He’s a psycho,” says Matt. “Who knows what goes on in that brain of his.”</p><p>“I don’t know if it was him, but I don’t think he had the opportunity,” says Neil. “Did any of you even see him at the dance?” He turns to Allison. “Do you know if anyone else’s drink was spiked?”</p><p>“Not that I’ve heard,” she says. “You have any suspects?”</p><p>“Not yet,” says Neil.</p><p>“You know, for most people I would assume that’s cause they can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt them, but you’re having trouble narrowing it down, aren’t you?” says Allison, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.</p><p>Neil gives her a wry look. “I’m wondering if it has anything to do with the last time I was drugged.”</p><p>“The <em>last</em> time you were what, sorry?” says Matt shrilly. “Is this a regular occurrence that you somehow failed to mention?”</p><p>“It happened before I knew you, relax,” Neil assures him.</p><p>“That’s less comforting than you seem to think,” grumbles Matt.</p><p>“The last time you were…” says Allison, trailing off as understanding washes across her face. “Janie’s post-Easter party,” she concludes. “I was surprised you got that shitfaced; you’re usually not one for drinking.”</p><p>Renee shifts her position. “Do you know who drugged you then?”</p><p>“No, and I don’t remember that night at all,” says Neil. “Did any of you see me?”</p><p>“Shockingly, I wasn’t invited to the 09er party,” replies Dan.</p><p>“Technically, neither was I,” says Neil.</p><p>Renee clears her throat. “I was there, but I left early.”</p><p>“Goody two-shoes,” scoffs Allison. “Probably left so you could get up on time for church the next day.”</p><p>Renee fiddles with her cross necklace and gives Allison a tight smile.</p><p>“I wasn’t there until late,” continues Allison.</p><p>“Making a fashionably late entrance?” asks Dan.</p><p>“There’s a line between arriving fashionably late and arriving so late that everyone’s already trashed,” says Allison. “I was out with Seth, but we were still hiding our relationship so I figured I should make an appearance.” She points one of her blood-red nails at Neil. “You were already out of it by the time I got there. You were sitting in Riko Moriyama’s lap as he fed you shots.”</p><p>Neil feels queasy. “If you tell me that I made out with him, too, I’m going to drink bleach and cut off my own head.”</p><p>“Easy, you drama queen,” says Allison. “It wasn’t like that. You were limp and he was forcing alcohol down your throat.”</p><p>“Why?” asks Neil.</p><p>“I gather you insulted him or something,” shrugs Allison. “He was giving a whole monologue, you know how he does. Like he’s the villain in a ‘90s sports movie.”</p><p>“That is a surprisingly apt comparison,” realizes Neil. “So I’m guessing you just left me to his tender mercies?”</p><p>“I figured you probably brought it on yourself,” Allison replies loftily. “But, it doesn’t matter. Kevin came in shortly after I did and swooped in and rescued you. He and Riko almost came to blows, but when Kevin actually showed a bit of spine, Riko slunk off like the coward he is.”</p><p>“Then what?”</p><p>“I dunno,” says Allison. “Kevin took you away and I didn’t see you again. I assumed he’d taken you home.”</p><p>“I don’t think he was in any shape to take me home,” says Neil, starting to pack up the remnants of his lunch.</p><p>Matt watches him with worried eyes. “You okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Neil assures him.</p><p>Matt doesn’t look convinced, but the warning bell puts a stop to any more arguments.</p><p>“I’ll walk with you,” offers Renee.</p><p>“I’m honestly fine,” says Neil as the two of them pull away from the others.</p><p>“That’s good to know, but it’s not the reason I wanted to talk to you,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. “I saw you later in the evening on the night of Janie’s party.”</p><p>“I thought you left.”</p><p>“I left the main party… to go upstairs to hook up with Janie,” Renee admits. “I didn’t want to tell you in front of them.”</p><p>“Fair enough; it’s your secret,” says Neil. “When did you see me?”</p><p>“Uh, a little before midnight? Janie had already gone back down to the party and I was heading out when Kevin pretty much dragged you up the stairs.”</p><p>“So probably right after Allison saw us, then,” says Neil.</p><p>“Probably. I told him the party guests weren’t supposed to be up there, but he said he got permission from Janie to put you to bed cause you were so out of it. I helped him get you into the guest room but he sent me out when you started taking off your shirt.”</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil, blankly. “I, um,” he gestures at his torso. “Scars.”</p><p>“You don’t have to explain,” says Renee quickly. “Anyway, he said he’d make sure you got settled to sleep it off and I left.”</p><p>“Thanks for telling me,” says Neil. Then, grimacing in distaste, “I guess I’d better talk to Kevin.”</p>
<hr/><p>Driving up the winding, tree-lined driveway of the Moriyama estate gives Neil such strong feelings of deja vu that he almost has to pull over to hurl into the decorative shrubbery. The last time he’d been here had been almost exactly one year ago, on the night Jean was murdered.</p><p>He pulls his car into the wide space made of interlocking brick set aside for visitor parking, as he’s done many times before, and forces his reluctant feet to carry him to the front door. It’s with a heavy heart he rings the bell, wondering if the housekeeper has been instructed to bar him from entering. Not that he particularly wants to enter the mansion; he imagines the hallways are full of ghosts.</p><p>He’s definitely not expecting Kevin himself to answer the door, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “What are you doing here?” he demands. “You want to accuse me of some other crime?”</p><p>“Depends on how you answer my questions,” jokes Neil weakly.</p><p>Kevin’s face remains stony as he crosses his arms over his chest.</p><p>Neil sighs. “I just need to know what happened at Janie Smalls’ party last April.”</p><p>“What happened is that you decided to make out with as many people as possible in an effort to hurt me,” says Kevin.</p><p>“Yeah, cause everything I do is about you,” huffs Neil. “First of all, <em>you’re</em> the one who broke up with <em>me</em>—without explanation, might I add—over three months before that party, so you really have no right to hurt feelings. Secondly, I was drugged, you asshole.”</p><p>Kevin drops his arms and takes an abortive step forward. “What?” he asks, aghast. “By whom?”</p><p>“I’m trying to figure out, so if you’d please tell me what you remember from that night?”</p><p>“Okay,” says Kevin. “Come on in.”</p><p>Neil takes a step back. “If you don’t mind, can we talk out here?”</p><p>Kevin looks confused for a couple beats before his brow smooths out and he steps out of the house, closing the door behind him. “This is your first time back, isn’t it?” he asks as he follows Neil over to his car.</p><p>“It’s not like I’m welcome,” says Neil, hopping up to sit on the hood of his car. “I don’t know how you can still live here.”</p><p>“It was hard at first,” Kevin admits, perching next to Neil. “I couldn’t stand being here, especially out next to the pool where it happened. But over time it got easier.” He shrugs. “I have way more good memories of him in this house than bad ones. It makes me feel close to him, in a way.”</p><p>They sit with that in silence for a couple minutes, before Neil figures he should resume his questioning.</p><p>“Why did you dump me?” Neil asks, which isn’t what he was planning on saying. Ever.</p><p>Kevin looks taken aback. “Well, it had run its course, hadn’t it?” he says uncomfortably.</p><p>Neil gives him a flat, unimpressed look.</p><p>Kevin stares at his knees. “My dad said it was time to start getting serious about college. And Jean had started seeing someone—you know about that?” At Neil’s nod, he continues, “And there was no way my dad would put up with both of us dating guys. I knew it was only a matter of time before he demanded I end it with you and it was easier than arguing.”</p><p>“Thanks for making me feel so important,” says Neil sarcastically. “Why did you even ask me out in the first place if you knew it couldn’t last?”</p><p>“It was fun while it lasted,” shrugs Kevin. “I liked playing lacrosse with you until you injured yourself.”</p><p>Neil shakes his head. It’s mostly what he suspected after talking with Jeremy, but it still doesn’t feel great for Kevin to admit he wasn’t worth fighting for. “Whatever, it’s history now,” he says shortly. “Tell me about Janie Smalls’ party.”</p><p>“What do you want to know?”</p><p>“Do you remember it?”</p><p>Kevin tenses up. “Oh, so this is a thing now? You just assume I black out and do awful things?”</p><p>“No,” snaps Neil. “But I figured you drank yourself into oblivion like you usually do at parties.”</p><p>“I didn’t,” says Kevin harshly. “Well… not until later. But I was there on a date with Robin and I had to get her home early.”</p><p>“Robin?” echoes Neil. “Robin Cross? Who was outed as a lesbian earlier this year?”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t know that then, did I?” says Kevin grumpily. “Besides, she asked me.”</p><p>“Kevin Day-Moriyama,” says Neil in an announcer voice, “can even seduce a lesbian.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” mutters Kevin, punching him in the shoulder. “Anyway, have you met her dad? He’s a judge and he’s terrifying. He made me promise to get her home by 11:30 and that he’d give me a breathalyzer when I did. And he <em>followed through</em>.”</p><p>“So we know you were sober at 11:30,” says Neil. “Then what, you went back to the party?”</p><p>“Yeah, and the first thing I saw was you flirting with Riko,” sneers Kevin.</p><p>“According to Allison it was more like he was force feeding me shots and I couldn’t stop him,” says Neil.</p><p>“Oh,” says Kevin, at a loss. “Well, I didn’t like it. I was already annoyed cause you’d been making out with Nicky when I left to take Robin home.”</p><p>“Not willingly.”</p><p>Kevin rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “So Riko and I got into it a bit—which, just let me say, I did not miss him when he was out of town.”</p><p>“Is he back?” asks Neil.</p><p>“Yeah, since his dad died,” says Kevin.</p><p>“He hasn’t been at school.”</p><p>“Nah, my cousin Ichirou’s decided he should be homeschooled.”</p><p>“Ichirou’s older, right?”</p><p>Kevin nods. “By over a decade. He’s taken over my uncle’s company.”</p><p>“Interesting,” says Neil, but doesn’t let himself get sidetracked. “So you took me upstairs to sleep it off?”</p><p>“Yeah, I asked Janie where I could put you and she sent me up. Renee was there and she helped me get you into bed, but when you started stripping I made sure she left. You passed out before long and then I went back down to the party.”</p><p>“You remember the whole thing?”</p><p>“Yes,” says Kevin tetchily. “Why are you harping on that?”</p><p>“Because it means Nicky lied to me,” snarls Neil. “Again.”</p><p>“So you two were never…?”</p><p>“No,” says Neil tiredly.</p><p>“What about you and Andrew?”</p><p>“What?” Neil sputters. “Why would you ask that?”</p><p>“I saw you two kissing earlier that night, but he pushed you away.”</p><p>He’s surprised by how much he’s hurt by the fact Andrew never mentioned that. “I… did not know that happened.”</p><p>“You were really drugged?” asks Kevin.</p><p>“Yeah,” says Neil defeatedly. “GHB.”</p><p>Kevin nods. “And you’re okay?”</p><p>“It was a while ago,” Neil says, brushing off Kevin’s misplaced concern.</p><p>“No, from Monday,” corrects Kevin. “My memory’s a little hazy, but Andrew caught up with me shortly after I talked to you and then left because you needed him or something.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine,” says Neil, sliding down the hood of his car to stand. “Thanks for clarifying things for me.”</p><p>“Neil?” says Kevin quietly, chewing on his bottom lip. “Do you really think I killed Jean?”</p><p>Neil inhales sharply. He’d been assuming Kevin would bury his head in the sand and pretend their conversation had never happened. He considers what to say; what good will come from admitting the truth to Kevin? It’ll only hurt him, and Neil can think of no positive outcomes. Jean wouldn’t want Kevin blamed for an accident. “No,” he says, as sincerely as he can. “I know you’d never hurt Jean.”</p><p>Kevin is visibly relieved and mollified. Still, as Neil’s pulling away from the house, with Kevin in his rearview mirror, he wonders if he made the right choice to lie.</p>
<hr/><p>Nicky makes the most hilarious choking/sputtering noise the next day when Neil catches him and shoves him against his locker. It’s too bad Neil’s not recording it.</p><p>“Neil?” he asks fearfully.</p><p>“I thought we went over how I felt about lying yesterday, Nicky,” Neil says brightly.</p><p>“What are you—”</p><p>“So would you care to tell me exactly what happened to your dose of GHB the night of Janie Smalls’ party?”</p><p>“I told you—”</p><p>“Kevin, yes,” says Neil. “However, he remembers the whole night and was sober for a large portion of it. Which, I know, sounds like a lie. It is Kevin, right? But he was sober enough to pass a breathalyzer, so maybe try again.”</p><p>“Well…” says Nicky, drawing the word out. “I didn’t actually <em>see</em> him take the GHB.”</p><p>“You spiked his drink and…?”</p><p>“I didn’t actually spike his drink. You know, personally,” says Nicky sheepishly.</p><p>“Nicky,” growls Neil.</p><p>“I gave it to the bartender and told him to put it in Kevin’s first drink,” says Nicky hurriedly. “But I didn’t actually pay attention to see if he did.”</p><p>Neil lets go of him and steps back. “And the bartender was…?”</p><p>Nicky grimaces. “I really do not remember a whole lot about that night.”</p><p>“That’s because Aaron drugged you,” says Neil.</p><p>Nicky looks sucker-punched. “Aaron did what?” he asks, aghast.</p><p>“Yeah,” says Neil tiredly. “It doesn’t feel great, does it?”</p>
<hr/><p>“Well, this is nice and cozy,” says Neil, taking a seat at the lunch table of Robin Cross and Janie Smalls. They’re sickening together, shooting each other coy looks and holding hands.</p><p>“It is, actually,” says Janie smugly.</p><p>Neil turns to Robin. “You do know she’s the one who outed you last fall?”</p><p>“I did,” says Robin. “But thanks for breaking it to me so gently in case I didn’t.”</p><p>“I figured you should know,” shrugs Neil. “Aren’t you mad at her?”</p><p>“Sure, I was,” says Robin. “She had no right to do that. But my parents have been supportive and at least she came out, too. It’s nice to be with someone who’s not ashamed to be with me.”</p><p>Neil clears his throat. “Well, you’re heading off to college soon. I’m sure you’ll find better people.”</p><p>“I’m sitting right here, asshole,” complains Janie.</p><p>“So you are,” says Neil. “Tell me, who was the bartender at your spring party last year? Did you hire someone, or was it a free-for-all?”</p><p>“Why, are you starting a lucrative career in party planning?” she snarks.</p><p>“I’ve got to ask him a couple questions.”</p><p>“Well while you’re at it, tell him he owes me money,” says Janie. “I paid him for the whole night but he fucked off after less than an hour.” She gestures at Robin. “Fuck, what was his name?”</p><p>“I dunno, babe, we weren’t together yet, remember?” laughs Robin.</p><p>“Right, you went with Kevin Day-Moriyama,” says Janie, wrinkling her nose.</p><p>“I was still in my pretending to be straight stage,” says Robin. “Shockingly, Kevin did nothing to change my mind about my sexuality.”</p><p>“How surprising,” muses Janie. “Now what was that fucker’s name. He was a sophomore last year. Richard or Ronald or Roger or—”</p><p>“Roland?” suggests Neil.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s it,” says Janie pointing at him. “You know him?”</p><p>“We’ve met,” says Neil shortly.</p>
<hr/><p>“Hey buddy,” says Neil, sliding into the desk next to Roland in fourth period journalism.</p><p>“You’re not in this class,” says Roland, side eyeing him.</p><p>“No, but I am good at coming up with valid-sounding excuses for why I’m here,” says Neil.</p><p>“What’s up?” asks Roland, leaning back in his chair. “Here to accuse me of something again? Or to ask for advice with Andrew? Or, monster cock, as you prefer to call him.”</p><p>“Why would I do that?”</p><p>“You think the way he watches you is subtle? He used to give me that little head tilt, too, when he wanted to hook up at lunch. You've been meeting him on the roof?”</p><p>“You were the bartender at Janie Smalls’ party last April,” says Neil, changing the subject abruptly. He doesn’t particularly care what Andrew used to get up to with other people, but he also doesn’t have to listen to it.</p><p>“I was,” concedes Roland, with a lazy grin.</p><p>“You put GHB in my drink.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>Neil pauses. “I was expecting getting you to admit it would be harder.”</p><p>“Why would I deny it? Especially when you’ve apparently figured everything out?”</p><p>“Why did you do it?” demands Neil.</p><p>“Andrew asked me to,” says Roland, faintly surprised. “He didn’t tell you?”</p><p>All Neil can do is mutely shake his head, all retorts flying out of his mind.</p><p>Roland shrugs. “I don’t think he got what he wanted out of it. Less than half an hour after I spiked your drink, he gave me the head nod.” His eyes go hazy and distant. “That was a good night. He was all worked up about something. Even brought out the handcuffs.” He smirks at Neil. “I can give you pointers if you want.”</p>
<hr/><p>“You okay, kid?” asks his dad, causing Neil to startle so badly he almost falls out of his chair.</p><p>“Yeah, fine,” replies Neil automatically.</p><p>“I see that,” deadpans his dad. “Wanna talk about it.”</p><p>“No,” says Neil. “Or… Kevin asked me if I think he killed Jean.”</p><p>His dad frowns, crossing his arms. “Why did he do that?”</p><p>Neil winces. “Cause I accidentally let on that I think he did.”</p><p>“Okaaaaaay,” says his dad slowly.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to, but we were arguing,” defends Neil.</p><p>“What did you tell him after?”</p><p>“That I know he’d never hurt Jean,” says Neil. He looks up at his dad. “Do you think I was wrong to lie to him?”</p><p>“I think…” says his dad, uncrossing his arms and stepping up to Neil’s side. “I think sometimes there are only bad options and you do the best with what you have.” He ruffles Neil’s hair. “How about we head out for Johnny’s burgers tonight? Friday night treat? You’ve had a hard week.”</p><p>“You have no idea.” Neil musters up a smile. “But, yeah, that sounds good. I’ve got to finish up some stuff here; I’ll lock up and meet you there in about half an hour?”</p><p>“Don’t work too hard,” says his dad, heading for the exit. He passes Andrew on his way out, causing him to turn and waggle his eyebrows in Neil’s direction. Neil shakes his head once, making his dad’s expression fall into confusion, but luckily he doesn’t stay.</p><p>Andrew’s expression is neutral as he takes a seat on the couch. “So you’re talking to me again,” he notes. “Did you find out what you needed to.”</p><p>“I did,” says Neil. “Or, mostly. Still missing some key details. Such as why you asked Roland Howarth to drug me.”</p><p>The only indication that has any impact is a slight widening of Andrew’s eyes. “I didn’t.”</p><p>“He says you did,” counters Neil.</p><p>“I…” Andrew trails off. “Oh.” He doesn’t elaborate.</p><p>“Something to share with the class?”</p><p>“He was there, when I was speaking with Richards,” explains Andrew. “I think I said something about slipping it in someone’s drink in order to question them. You showed up around that time and I mentioned I wouldn’t mind knowing your secrets.”</p><p>“So you did tell him to.”</p><p>“That’s clearly not what I meant. He did it on his own.”</p><p>“Or he did it as a favour to you, cause you were hooking up at the time.”</p><p>Andrew lifts one shoulder. “It didn’t mean anything.”</p><p>“Like how the fact we kissed that night also didn’t mean anything?” presses Neil. “Is that why you didn’t mention it?”</p><p>Andrew stares at the patterned linoleum on the floor. “You kissed me,” he says, barely audible. “I stopped it as soon as I realized how wasted you were.”</p><p>“You realized how wasted I was and you just left me there?” demands Neil.</p><p>“No,” says Andrew. “I told Nicky to keep an eye on you.”</p><p>Neil gapes at him. “Yeah, that turned out great,” he says sarcastically. He shakes his head. “It makes no sense. You’ve got the biggest personal bubble of anyone I know,” he argues. “If you didn’t want me to kiss you, you would have stopped me as soon as I crossed a boundary.”</p><p>“Who says I didn’t want it,” replies Andrew, still not making eye contact. “You said you missed me and then you kissed me. I thought it was real.”</p><p>“But then you immediately went home with Roland,” Neil points out.</p><p>“Doesn’t mean anything,” repeats Andrew. “He’s nothing to me.”</p><p>“Right,” says Neil. “That same way I’m nothing?” He briefly thinks about Robin and Janie, openly admitting they mean something to each other without shame. He didn’t realize until just now that he wants that, too.</p><p>Andrew clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t reply.</p><p>“I know there is nothing between us, that it doesn’t mean anything to you,” Neil continues. “You’ve been very clear on that from the start. So, since it’s meaningless anyway, I think it’s probably time we stop.”</p><p>“Neil—” starts Andrew, finally looking at him.</p><p>“I’m tired of being nothing,” Neil cuts him off.</p><p>Andrew visibly swallows, but he doesn’t offer any argument. He meets Neil’s eyes for a microsecond before he gets up to leave, sauntering out of the office as unaffected as he’d been on his way in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for this chapter: reference to past nonconsensual drugging, reference to murder</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil’s already taken Backup for his morning run, showered, and started on breakfast by the time his dad shuffles out of bed on Monday morning.</p>
<p>“Morning!” Neil chirps as he enters the kitchen, blinking against the morning light.</p>
<p>His dad squints at him for several moments before shambling over to the front door, like some kind of zombie. He opens it, takes a step outside and then comes back in. “This is my house,” he mutters. “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”</p>
<p>“Ha,” deadpans Neil.</p>
<p>“Seriously, he’s about yay high,” says his dad, holding a palm up against his chest, “and snarky. Kinda broody, actually. Not cheerful.”</p>
<p>“Have I ever told you that you’re funny?” asks Neil, filling a mug with coffee and passing it over.</p>
<p>“No, actually you haven’t,” replies his dad, taking the coffee.</p>
<p>“Well, there’s a really good reason for that,” says Neil, turning back to the pancakes he’s making.</p>
<p>His dad huffs a laugh and takes a seat at the counter. “So what’s got you in a good mood?” he asks, his voice taking on a leading tone. “Things going well with Andrew?”</p>
<p>Neil’s spine stiffens and his spatula clatters to the stove top.</p>
<p>“Neil?” says his dad, half-standing with concern.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Neil waves him off. “That was nothing.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t look like nothing,” mutters his dad, taking a sip of coffee.</p>
<p>“It was,” insists Neil. “He’s a self-centred asshole who doesn’t care about me at all, and I should have known better than to try to be his friend again.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t seem all that indifferent to you the night he brought your unconscious body home from the dance last week,” says his dad.</p>
<p>“Well, he is,” says Neil, plating up a stack of pancakes. “Drop it.”</p>
<p>His dad eyes him suspiciously, but doesn’t press the topic. “If it’s not that, what’s with the pancakes and sunshine routine?”</p>
<p>“It’s a fresh start,” declares Neil.</p>
<p>His dad glances at the calendar hanging on the wall above the telephone. “It’s February 21st,” he says. “Is this some kind of holiday I don’t know about?”</p>
<p>“No,” says Neil. “But we’ve found out what happened to Jean—it’s a garbage solution, I know, but at least we can put that to rest. And I’ve sworn off rich douchebags for good. And it’s almost March, which means it's almost my birthday. <em>And</em> I’ve only got a couple more months of high school before college and I plan to spend it having a normal childhood.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh,” says his dad, looking at him like he’s been replaced with an alien. “I give this newfound attitude 48 hours,” he declares. “Less, if something happens to make you curious.”</p>
<p>“No way,” says Neil. “I’m finished with all that amateur detective stuff. I have turned a new leaf, and I am going to be a normal teenager from now on. Mark my words.”</p>
<p>“Consider them marked,” says his dad. “But don’t expect me to believe you’ll ever be normal.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dan’s voice carries across the quad as soon as Neil arrives at school, shouting his name. “You didn’t answer your phone all weekend,” she says breathlessly when she catches up to him.</p>
<p>“I forgot to charge it,” lies Neil.</p>
<p>He kept it off because he didn’t want to talk to anyone as he wallowed in his definitely-not-a-break-up-because-only-people-who-are-dating-can-break-up-and-they-clearly-weren’t-doing-that with Andrew. He’d gotten sick of his own moping on Sunday night and made the executive decision to shove down all his feelings and ignore them. Like a mentally healthy person.</p>
<p>“Doofus,” says Dan, wrapping her hand around Neil’s wrist and pulling him along in her wake.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, did you just call me a doofus?” laughs Neil. “Wow, sick burn.”</p>
<p>Dan glances over her shoulder. “Did you say, ‘sick burn’?” she asks incredulously.</p>
<p>“So we’re both losers,” says Neil easily. “Just for reference, where are you dragging me?”</p>
<p>“It’s Matt,” she says, sobering. “He needs your special brand of help.”</p>
<p>“Damn,” says Neil. “I hate it when my dad’s right.”</p>
<p>Dan fills him in on the bare bones of the story before shoving him unceremoniously into the boy’s locker room. It brings back not altogether unpleasant memories of the days he used to take PE and play on the school’s soccer and lacrosse teams.</p>
<p>“Matt?” he calls, his voice echoing through the seemingly-empty room. “You in here, bud?” He takes a couple cautious steps forward. “Not gonna lie, I kinda feel like I’m about to be jumped and shoved into a locker.”</p>
<p>“You’d fit,” says Matt’s voice from the far side of the room, sounding lifeless.</p>
<p>Neil steps around the corner and finds Matt wedged between the end of the row of lockers and the wall.</p>
<p>He sighs and shoves himself in beside him. “What’s up?” he asks.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” says Matt morosely. “I failed my drug test.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Dan told me. She said you’re banned from playing volleyball,” admits Neil. “But I don’t see how. You’re clean.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to tell me that,” says Matt. “I apparently tested positive for marijuana use. But I haven’t Neil, I swear.”</p>
<p>“I believe you,” Neil assures him, before carefully adding, “But even if you had, I wouldn’t care.”</p>
<p>Matt stiffens resentfully. “Well, I didn’t,” he sniffs.</p>
<p>“I know. I’m just saying that if you ever do fall off the wagon, I’m still going to support and care about you.”</p>
<p>“You might be the only one,” says Matt dryly. “My mom’s so disappointed she won’t even look at me. She started talking about maybe moving again.”</p>
<p>“No way I’m going to let that happen,” vows Neil. “You know I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” sighs Matt.</p>
<p>“Walk me through it?” asks Neil, jostling him with his shoulder. “It’s the school’s mandatory drug test for athletes, right? I had to do them back when I played JV.”</p>
<p>“They test everyone every six weeks,” says Matt. “My test was fine back in January, but this time came back positive.”</p>
<p>“Okay, from what I remember, it’s done by the school nurse, right?”</p>
<p>“Right, she hands you a little cup, sends you into the tiny bathroom attached to her office, and then hovers around waiting for you to fill it in order to make the whole process extra awkward,” supplies Matt. “Then you bring the cup back out to her, she seals it with a piece of tape and you initial the tape. The lab’s supposed to reject the samples if the tape’s been tampered with.”</p>
<p>“So there’s no way someone switched the sample before it got sent to the lab,” muses Neil. “I’m guessing the results were fucked with. Do you know who has it out for you?”</p>
<p>“Can’t think of anyone specific,” says Matt. “There’s everyone who hates you, I guess.”</p>
<p>Neil smiles grimly. “A longer list than I’d like.”</p>
<p>“Neil, this is going on my permanent file,” Matt despairs. “It was already spotty enough, but this’ll be the nail in my coffin. I won’t be accepted into any colleges.”</p>
<p>“I’ll fix it, I promise,” says Neil, leaning his head against Matt’s shoulder in comfort. They sit together quietly for several minutes. “Say,” says Neil, “we haven’t had any friend bonding excursions lately. When’s the best time for fun?”</p>
<p>“Uh, I’m a little preoccupied with this right now,” says Matt, completely puzzled. “What kind of bonding do you have in mind?”</p>
<p>“I was thinking we could sneak into the admin office after hours using your key and examine some drug tests. You know, as a treat.”</p>
<p>“You have the oddest idea of fun,” says Matt.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil laughs himself hoarse when Matt shows up for their evening of breaking and entering. He’s in black jeans, a black turtleneck, and has procured a black ski mask from somewhere.</p>
<p>“You said wear dark colours,” Matt complains.</p>
<p>“I said don’t be suspicious,” Neil retorts, leading Matt through the dark, empty corridors. “That getup is suspicious.”</p>
<p>“This place is so creepy at night,” shivers Matt. “It doesn’t seem like the same place I saw Ricky Williams give a wedgie to a freshman just this morning.”</p>
<p>“Seriously, a wedgie?” asks Neil. “God, his bullying has really become unimaginative since Riko was sent away.”</p>
<p>Matt’s keys grant them access to the admin office and Matt points out the cabinet where the drug tests are kept.</p>
<p>“You can protest the result for up to a month, but then the tests are shredded to make way for new ones,” he explains, as Neil unlocks and opens the drawer.</p>
<p>He flips through the files until he finds Matt’s, taking it out and placing it on the nearest desk. He switches on the lamp, causing Matt to hiss in protest.</p>
<p>“What if someone sees us?”</p>
<p>“We should probably have a good excuse ready,” says Neil. “You think about that while I look at this.” He rifles through his messenger bag until he locates his small, tubular magnifying glass.</p>
<p>“You carry around a magnifying glass with you?” asks Matt incredulously.</p>
<p>“Of course, it’s one of the tools of a good detective,” replies Neil. “Magnifying glass, lockpicks, and fake glasses with a plastic mustache attached.”</p>
<p>Matt stares at him for a beat before caving. “Do you actually have fake glasses in your bag?”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t you like to know?” says Neil with a wink. “Now, let me look at this and see how it was modified.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“It wasn’t modified,” Neil says five minutes later.</p>
<p>Matt groans and buries his head in his hands. “But—”</p>
<p>“Sorry, dude,” says Neil. “I thought it might be a simple checkbox, but the results are written out in a full sentence and signed off by a lab tech named…” he trailed off as he deciphered the signature. “Jim Chimory?” He looks up at Matt. “Do you think he’s gone a day in his life without being teased?”</p>
<p>“So you have nothing?” asks Matt, pained.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean I’m out of ideas,” says Neil. “Actually, here, hand me one of the negative results so I can do a comparison.”</p>
<p>Matt heads back over to the drawer and sorts through the folders. “Now who should I…? Oh, Renee Walker,” he says, pulling out a folder. “There’s no way she failed her drug test.”</p>
<p>“Agreed,” says Neil, flipping open the results. He blinks in surprise, and tips the page in Matt’s direction. “And yet.”</p>
<p>“No way,” says Matt, his eyes huge as he takes in the positive result.</p>
<p>“Hmmm,” says Neil. “How about we see who <em>else</em> failed their test?”</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, Neil sits back in his chair, the desk in front of him littered with files. “So none of these have been faked,” he reiterates. “Look, there’s even different coloured inks for the positive and negatives.”</p>
<p>“Right, but do you really think that Renee Walker, Thea Muldani, and Katelyn Herrera all smoked up prior to their tests?” says Matt. “Especially since Chad Breckenridge passed his test, and everyone saw him light one up on his way out of the Valentine’s day dance.”</p>
<p>“Curiouser and curiouser,” says Neil. “Well, at least it’s not just you. Now it’s a <em>conspiracy</em>.”</p>
<p>Matt side-eyes him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>“Not your misery, but I do like the mystery I’m afraid,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“It appeals to your nosy and manipulative nature,” nods Matt in agreement.</p>
<p>Neil sighs. “I’m doomed to never be a normal high schooler.”</p>
<p>“Who wants to be normal?” asks Matt.</p>
<p>Neil smiles at him and starts to gather up the files. “Can you ask Renee, Thea, and Katelyn to join us for lunch tomorrow? We need to find out what you four have in common.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The following day, Katelyn arrives at Neil and Matt’s lunch table first. She looks tired, but determined.</p>
<p>“How’s it going?” Neil asks her.</p>
<p>“Oh, great,” she says sarcastically. “It’s been over a week since Fuckface distributed that video of me so it was probably time for another disaster.”</p>
<p>“Things have sucked for you recently, huh?” says Neil, attempting sympathy.</p>
<p>Katelyn laughs humorlessly. “They sure do. My parents are freaking out. And my dad’s also being sued on top of it all…”</p>
<p>“Sued?” asks Neil, his sense of intrigue tingling. “By who?”</p>
<p>“Oh, this group of 09er parents,” says Katelyn dismissively. “Like that whole friend group made up of, like, the Lakes twins’ and Lydia Shetfield’s parents? They call themselves ‘Boatloads of Fun’,” she expands, rolling her eyes.</p>
<p>“Why are they suing?”</p>
<p>“My dad runs a holiday rental company and they rented out a house in Vail for skiing over the holidays. They lost power for about 24 hours due to a snowstorm and are suing my dad to have their entire fee refunded.”</p>
<p>“Well they sure don’t sound like boatloads of fun,” comments Neil, as Thea shows up.</p>
<p>“Sticking your nose into other people’s business again?” she asks as she takes a seat, but she doesn’t sound irritated. More amused than anything.</p>
<p>“That worked out for you last time, if I recall correctly,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t complaining.”</p>
<p>Renee shows up last, taking a seat next to Katelyn and giving her shoulder a squeeze. “How are you holding up?” she asks in a low tone.</p>
<p>“My parents think I’m following in Reggie’s footsteps,” replies Katelyn. “They’ve instituted a 6 pm curfew.”</p>
<p>“Who’s Reggie?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“My older brother,” says Katelyn. “He’s been in and out of juvie and jail for drug offenses since he was 14. He’s a member of the PCH.”</p>
<p>“And the mostly likely reason for Douchebag Paris’ trip up the flagpole?” deduces Neil.</p>
<p>“I haven’t asked,” says Katelyn, starting to unbag her lunch. “Plausible deniability.”</p>
<p>Neil cocks his head in thought. “So that’s two of you who might believably be drug users,” he says. “With your older brother’s influence and Matt’s…” he trails off as he meets Matt’s eye and realizes what he’s about to reveal. “Nothing.”</p>
<p>“Good save,” says Matt.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” says Neil, abashed.</p>
<p>“Eh,” shrugs Matt. “I shouldn’t be ashamed.” He squares his shoulders and looks to the others. “I am a recovering addict, is what Neil’s getting at.”</p>
<p>“As am I,” says Renee.</p>
<p>Neil whips his head around to look at her. “Again, sorry,” he grimaces. “You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”</p>
<p>“As Matt said, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” says Renee easily. “I wasn’t adopted until I was 13. Before that, I lived with my biological mother, who was involved in gang life. Drugs were easy to access.”</p>
<p>Neil’s shoulders slump. “Any painful memories I’ve dredged up for you?” he asks Thea wryly.</p>
<p>“I don’t have a personal history with drugs, but my father does,” she admits. “He was often in trouble for his steroid and other drug use during his time in the majors.”</p>
<p>“That’s… baseball?” Neil checks.</p>
<p>Matt sighs in exasperation. “You’re hopeless,” he says. “Yes, it’s baseball.”</p>
<p>“Okay, so all of you have a connection that makes your positive drug tests at least plausible,” Neil says. “But it’s not common knowledge. Someone would have had to go through your permanent files to find your family connections or past drug offenses.”</p>
<p>“Who has access to those?” asks Renee.</p>
<p>“Anyone who works in the admin office,” says Neil, trying not to slide his eyes conspiratorially in Matt’s direction. “Or people who work for the school board, probably.”</p>
<p>“Why would they tamper with our results?” asks Katelyn.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” admits Neil. “Or, wait, perhaps the results weren’t tampered with. Maybe they’re real.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I smoke so much ganga that I forgot all about it,” drawls Thea.</p>
<p>“No, I meant, what if you consumed it accidentally? You know, like a small amount in a brownie or another edible? Have you all eaten something at the same place that you didn’t know the origin of?”</p>
<p>The four of them all turn thoughtful for several moments before Matt exclaims, “Spirit boxes!”</p>
<p>“Oh!” says Katelyn, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I took one from the pep rally last week.”</p>
<p>“Spirit boxes?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“If you had any school spirit, you’d know about them,” chides Matt. “They’re boxes of cookies that the pep squad puts together for athletes during pep rallies.”</p>
<p>“I also picked one up,” admits Renee.</p>
<p>“Me, too,” says Thea.</p>
<p>“And you ate a cookie before your test?” Neil asks.</p>
<p>Matt grins. “I ate six.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like you,” Neil replies. “Okay, Matt will take an over-the-counter drug test to see if that’s what happened, but in the meantime, can you think of anyone who wants to screw with you?”</p>
<p>Renee shakes her head instantly, while Katelyn just shrugs.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Thea points out. “Last time you bothered me about the purity tests, it was because of some uppity bitch I’d never even spoken to.”</p>
<p>“Actually…” says Neil slowly, an idea hitting him. “That’s a good point. Katelyn, Marissa said that the whole purity test thing—and wow, you’ve not had a good school year have you?”</p>
<p>Katelyn shakes her head ruefully.</p>
<p>“Anyway, she said she wanted to get back at you for getting the position of flyer on the cheerleading squad,” Neil recalls. “Has she taken over your position due to your ban?”</p>
<p>Katelyn’s face hardens. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“Right,” says Neil, gaining momentum. He points at Thea. “And at the Valentine’s dance, I spent a solid forty minutes listening to Lydia Shetfield bitch about the fact that you moved here from New York and stole her position at… um… one of the bases? I assume baseball has bases.”</p>
<p>“Second base,” says Thea. “And she’s a talentless hack, I didn’t steal anything from her.”</p>
<p>“But she’s taken over your position now?” checks Neil.</p>
<p>Thea nods.</p>
<p>“Uhh, Duncan Fennel took over my spot on the volleyball team,” adds Matt. “He was a starter last year, before I got here.”</p>
<p>“And Jenny Lakes moved up from JV to take my spot in badminton,” supplies Renee.</p>
<p>“Now we’re getting somewhere,” says Neil, clapping his hands together.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Matt?” asks Neil, knocking on the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”</p>
<p>A noncommittal grunt answers him.</p>
<p>“You done yet?” Neil asks.</p>
<p>“No!” yells Matt.</p>
<p>“What’s taking so long?” Neil bites his lip to stop a grin.</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” replies Matt sarcastically. “Maybe it has something to do with you standing right outside the door and knocking every twenty seconds to check how I’m doing.”</p>
<p>“Shy bladder, huh?” says Neil sagely. “Do you want some tips?”</p>
<p>“<em>No</em>,” hisses Matt.</p>
<p>“Sometimes I find humming helps.”</p>
<p>“Go<em> away</em>!”</p>
<p>Neil smiles to himself and turns away from the door, finding his dad watching him with an amused expression. “What’s going on?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Matt’s taking a drug test,” says Neil, hastily tacking on, “for a health class project,” at his dad’s raised eyebrow. “He’s having some trouble. Maybe you could help?”</p>
<p>His dad gives him a look, but steps up beside him and raps on the door. “Matt, you having performance issues?” he asks.</p>
<p>“No, sir,” says Matt quickly, using the formal voice he always does around Neil’s dad. It amuses Neil to no end that Matt finds his dad intimidating.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, it happens to everyone,” continues his dad. “Maybe turn on the taps?”</p>
<p>Matt groans in despair.</p>
<p>Neil chuckles and decides he’s given Matt enough grief, backing away to give him long-deserved privacy.</p>
<p>His dad follows, raising an eyebrow. “Health class project, huh?” he comments. “Not anything else.”</p>
<p>“Nope,” says Neil blithely. “Just school work here, like normal teens.”</p>
<p>“If you say so.”</p>
<p>“Um,” says Neil. “Now that you mention it, I could use your help with something.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mention it,” says his dad dryly.</p>
<p>“If I know the name of a corporation, could you find its shareholders?”</p>
<p>His dad crosses his arms over his chest. “For your health class project?”</p>
<p>“It’s a very thorough project,” says Neil. His dad keeps staring at him steadily. “Fine,” sighs Neil. “Matt and a few other students failed their mandatory athletic drug tests, despite not taking any drugs.”</p>
<p>“That sounds serious,” says his dad, relaxing his stance. “Especially since you were drugged last week.”</p>
<p>They haven’t really talked about it yet. Neil knows his dad spent his free time last week looking into it, without finding any evidence. There are no witnesses who’ll admit to seeing anything and all the trash from the gym where the dance was held was long gone to the landfill. Neil has a hunch that Riko is somehow behind it—since he now knows Riko’s been back in town ever since December—and he absolutely doesn’t want his dad involved if that’s the case. He is pretending it never happened, something his dad usually lets him get away with.</p>
<p>“Unrelated, I think,” says Neil. “Different drug. I think this is more a case of the results being faked somehow.”</p>
<p>“Any suspects?” asks his dad, getting intrigued despite himself.</p>
<p>“A few, but I need to find a connection between them,” says Neil pointedly. “I know a couple are involved with the corporation, but I want to see if the others are as well.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” says his dad, heading over to where he left his laptop on the living room coffee table. Backup blinks open his eye to squint at them when they come into the room, before deciding nothing interesting is happening and going back to sleep.</p>
<p>“It’s called Boatloads of Fun Inc,” says Neil, when his dad looks up at him expectantly. He has access to even more comprehensive databases than Neil does as an actually licensed PI.</p>
<p>“Okay…” says his dad. “Shareholders are John and Mary Shetfield, Edwin and Lucia Lakes, Linda and Thomas Sinclair, Alicia and Keith Fennel…”</p>
<p>“All good,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“And Hilda and Wally Breckenridge,” finishes his dad.</p>
<p>“Breckenridge?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“Not what you wanted?”</p>
<p>“The first five couples make sense, but… oh!” says Neil in realization. “Chad Breckenridge got a false negative result. Still good.”</p>
<p>Matt triumphantly comes out of the bathroom, waving his drug test in the air. “All negative, baby!” he crows.</p>
<p>Neil ducks his attempt to show Neil by shoving the test in his face. “Gross. Our friendship does not require me to be that close to your urine.”</p>
<p>“You totally deserve it,” argues Matt.</p>
<p>“I could just… not solve the case,” offers Neil.</p>
<p>“Aw, don’t be like that,” says Matt. “Plus, look! I’m not accidentally high.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I knew that already,” says Neil. “I already figured out what happened.”</p>
<p>Matt looks at him expectantly.</p>
<p>“Boatloads of Fun Inc spent their Christmas holidays conspiring to get their offspring starter positions in their respective sports.”</p>
<p>“Okay…” says Matt. “Now what? We tell the school?”</p>
<p>Neil scoffs. “No way, everything’s still pretty circumstantial right now.”</p>
<p>“So…” says Matt leadingly.</p>
<p>“So it’s time for blackmail and extortion, obviously.”</p>
<p>His dad sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m right here.”</p>
<p>“Hey, you’re the one who doesn’t want me to be normal,” says Neil, pointing at him.</p>
<p>“That is not remotely what I said,” replies his dad, sounding long-suffering.</p>
<p>“That’s what I heard,” says Neil. “But if it bothers your delicate sensibilities so much, we’ll continue our planning in my room.”</p>
<p>“Try not to get arrested and-slash-or attacked,” his dad calls after them.</p>
<p>“No promises!” Neil shouts back.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The following Saturday, Neil is gathering up the last few items he needs before leaving work when Seth Gordon saunters through the door of his dad’s office.</p>
<p>“Seth,” says Neil, vaguely surprised. He hasn’t had much contact with Seth since before Christmas and he’s never come to Wymack Investigations before.</p>
<p>Neil’s dad looks up from the filing cabinet at his greeting. “Mr. Gordon,” he says warily. “Can I help you with something?”</p>
<p>“Sheriff,” says Seth, with a respectful nod.</p>
<p>“I’m not the sheriff anymore.”</p>
<p>“All the same,” says Seth. “But I’m here to talk to Junior.”</p>
<p>Neil flinches at the nickname, causing both Seth and his dad to eye him curiously. “Shortbus is fine,” he covers with an unconvincing grin.</p>
<p>“Alright?” asks his dad.</p>
<p>“Fine,” says Neil. “I’m heading out soon anyway.”</p>
<p>“Right, for the thing I know nothing about,” says his dad. “Holler if you need me.” He gives Seth one last assessing look and disappears into the inner office.</p>
<p>“Aw, your dad doesn’t like me,” laments Seth.</p>
<p>“I think he just doesn’t trust you not to lead me into a life of crime.”</p>
<p>“You’re doing just fine at that on your own, so I’ve heard.”</p>
<p>“From your pal Luke Engel, who got me arrested?” says Neil dryly.</p>
<p>Seth’s face clouds. “Luke Engel’s no friend of mine.”</p>
<p>“He’s not a drug dealer, either,” says Neil. “Despite what you told me.”</p>
<p>“I needed to know what he was up to,” Seth shrugs.</p>
<p>“Why?” demands Neil. “Since you got me to start following him, I’ve been framed for making fake IDs, locked in my own trunk, and drugged. I think I deserve some answers.”</p>
<p>“Why do you think I’m here?” Seth asks, sounding genuinely offended.</p>
<p>“To ask for a favour,” retorts Neil.</p>
<p>“Not this time,” says Seth. “I’ve got something you’ll be interested in.”</p>
<p>Neil holds out his hand. “What is it? Hand it over.”</p>
<p>“Nah, you’ve gotta come with me.”</p>
<p>“That’s not suspicious at all,” drawls Neil. “I knew you just wanted me on the back of your motorcycle.”</p>
<p>“Come on,” urges Seth. “You’ll be glad you did.”</p>
<p>“I can’t; I’ve got plans,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Cancel them.”</p>
<p>“They aren’t the type of plans that can be cancelled,” says Neil. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Seth’s look of outrage is both over-the-top and hilarious. “Fine,” he says snippily. “But see if I jump the next time you ask me to.”</p>
<p>“Whereas every <em>other</em> time I’ve asked you to jump, you asked me how high?” retorts Neil.</p>
<p>“I’ll be back tomorrow,” says Seth. Neil’s not sure whether it’s a threat or a promise. “Then you’ll see. I’m gonna blow the top of this place.” He turns and leaves.</p>
<p>Neil’s conflicted for a moment, Seth’s words stoking his infernal curiosity. Then he remembers how much Seth likes to showboat and how over-inflated his sense of his own importance is. Not quite on par with an 09er, but not far behind, either. He shrugs and finishes packing up his supplies, calls farewell to his dad, and heads over to Klose Pizza.</p>
<p>Erik greets him effusively when he comes in.</p>
<p>“Everything ready?” Neil asks.</p>
<p>“Sure is,” says Erik enthusiastically. He looks back to where Nicky is half-hiding behind the counter. “We’re both glad we can help you with this.” His words are pointed.</p>
<p>Neil sighs and gives Nicky a half-hearted nod of thanks, which results in a tremulous smile. He’s been watching Neil like a slapped dog for the past week at school, which doesn’t seem particularly fair. Neil’s not the one who did anything wrong; he shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for his anger.</p>
<p>“This table?” he asks, just to double check. It’s fairly obvious that the five tables pushed together with a large RESERVED sign placed on them are for his party. He grabs a couple mics out of his bag, setting them up so they’re impossible to notice by accident and then performs a couple sound checks. As he’s finishing up, Vice Principal Whittier comes into the shop, looking around with resignation.</p>
<p>“Despite my friendship with your father, it’s really inappropriate of me to meet a student—” he starts to fret when he spots Neil.</p>
<p>“You’re not meeting a student, you’re meeting an employee,” Neil cuts him off.</p>
<p>“An employee?” sighs Mr. Whittier.</p>
<p>“Exactly. I was hired by the school to look into the recent suspect drug tests,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Were you?” asks Mr. Whittier, narrowing his eyes.</p>
<p>Neil smiles his most winning smile at him. “Maybe retroactively.”</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier sighs.</p>
<p>“Look, sir, right now, four of your sports are missing their top players,” Neil quickly continues before he loses him. “That’s going to hurt the school’s record this spring. Is there any harm in me proving that those athletes’ drug tests were faked? If I’m right, you can overturn their bans and maybe Palmetto High will have a winning season.”</p>
<p>“Yes, fine,” says Mr. Whittier, already won over. Sports have always drawn in the most financial support from the school’s rich parents. Keeping a winning record is important to Palmetto High’s bottom line.</p>
<p>Neil ushers him over to an out-of-the-way table, keeping him hidden from the reserved table so the conspirators won’t see him. He hands over an earpiece, so Mr. Whittier can listen to what the occupants of the larger table have to say, and then they wait for them to arrive.</p>
<p>The Sinclairs show up first. Erik shows them to the table and they sit and peruse the menus until the Shetfields make an appearance.</p>
<p>“Linda,” says Mrs. Shetfield stiffly as she takes a seat. “What brings you here?”</p>
<p>“Probably the same as you,” says Mrs. Sinclair, her tone just as icy.</p>
<p>“You got an email from this Chimory fellow, too?” asks Mr. Shetfield.</p>
<p>“John, keep your voice down,” hisses Mrs. Shetfield.</p>
<p>“What do you think the man wants?” Mr. Shetfield says, in a lower tone.</p>
<p>“Money,” says Mrs. Sinclair with disdain. “That's what these types of people always want.”</p>
<p>The hushed discussion between them continues as their co-conspirators arrive, all of them called to a meeting with lab tech Jim Chimory. Neil wrote them all “I know what you did last summer” (or Christmas, as the case may be) emails purporting to be the lab tech who had signed off on all the tests. He doesn’t know if Chimory is the one who faked the results, but that doesn’t stop the parents from incriminating themselves. They easily fall into petty bickering about whose idea the whole scheme was. Mrs. Lakes even drops the juicy tidbit that Matt, Katelyn, Renee, and Thea were chosen as targets because of the school records Mrs. Sinclair has access to through her job as school trustee.</p>
<p>“That enough?” Neil asks Mr. Whittier after all five sets of parents have arrived and revealed themselves to be in on the plan.</p>
<p>“I’ll deal with it,” sighs Mr. Whittier. He gives Neil a piercing look. “Don’t take this as an invitation to start sticking your nose into anything you want.”</p>
<p>“Who me?” asks Neil innocently.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Backup effusively greets Neil when he gets home. “You missed the intruder,” Neil tells him, pointing at Matt, who’s waiting for him on the living room couch. “Did you break in?”</p>
<p>“Your dad let me in, but then had to go out,” Matt explains. “Well?”</p>
<p>“All taken care of,” Neil says. “Just like I promised.”</p>
<p>Matt exhales in relief. “I don’t know how to thank you.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to,” says Neil, heading over to the fridge and rummaging through it for something to eat. He ate pizza earlier, but he’s peckish again. “That’s what friends are for.”</p>
<p>“Yes, they’re for helping with your problems,” agrees Matt. “So if you want to tell me what’s been going on with you lately, I’ll happily listen.”</p>
<p>Neil freezes and closes the fridge. “Why do you say something’s going on with me?” he asks, aiming for casual.</p>
<p>The look Matt shoots him screams, <em>Really?</em></p>
<p>Neil opens his mouth to insist he’s fine, but that’s not what comes out. “I broke up with Andrew.” He hurries to qualify, “Kind of. Not really.”</p>
<p>Matt stares at him and then Neil finds words of explanation pouring out of him. He tells Matt about his previous relationship with Kevin and how he’s been looking into Jean’s murder and the whatever-the-hell-it-was with Andrew, and what he found out about his drugging at Janie’s party. The only thing he holds back is his belief that Kevin killed Jean; he’s not ever going to share that with anyone.</p>
<p>At first, Matt looks bewildered and concerned at the word vomit, but then he sits silently listening to Neil’s tirade. He says little, offering encouragement or understanding as it’s needed, but otherwise staying silent.</p>
<p>“Wow,” he says once Neil’s stopped talking.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” agrees Neil, staring down into his lap. He’s sitting next to Matt on the sofa, but they’re not touching at all. Neil thinks he might shatter if Matt tries to touch him.</p>
<p>“Do you feel better now?” asks Matt.</p>
<p>“A little, I guess,” says Neil. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you.”</p>
<p>“Unload on me anytime,” says Matt and then pulls a face. “That doesn’t sound great.”</p>
<p>The corner of Neil’s lips pull up in a half-smile. “Still. You shouldn’t have to carry this shit.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mind, as long as you don’t have to carry it alone,” says Matt. “Besides, that’s what friends are for.”</p>
<p>“Are they?” asks Neil. “Then tell me, what’s up with you and Dan?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” answers Matt. “Between school council and extracurriculars and getting ready to leave for college, she’s not interested in starting a relationship. We’re just friends.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, bud, I know you like her,” offers Neil.</p>
<p>“Why are you sorry? She’s awesome and she’s my friend.”</p>
<p>Neil looks at Matt seriously. “More people should be like you. Why can’t I get involved with people like you instead of rich boys who’ll toss me away as soon as they get bored?”</p>
<p>“Actually, about that…” says Matt.</p>
<p>“Matthew Boyd, are you propositioning me?” asks Neil, putting on a falsely scandalized tone.</p>
<p>“No, I was just wondering what your sexuality actually is,” says Matt. “Cause, I’m not gonna lie, the Andrew thing kinda surprises me, but not really. You never look at anyone except him or Kevin.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” replies Neil. “Friendsexual, is that a thing? I’ve really only ever been attracted to people who are already my friends. Like, I’d date you if you asked me. But I’d probably also date Dan.”</p>
<p>“If I asked you, hey?”</p>
<p>Neil shrugs. “I think I’d give it a try with any of my friends who asked,” he says, trying to explain but not quite finding the words. “I don’t think it’d work with all of them, though.”</p>
<p>“We could try,” teases Matt.</p>
<p>“You’re hung up on Dan,” Neil protests.</p>
<p>“And you’re still stuck on Andrew,” retorts Matt. “Come on, let’s try this.”</p>
<p>Neil scoffs, but doesn’t see the harm in it. He shuffles closer to Matt and tips his chin up as Matt cups his face and leans in to press their lips together. It’s a short, chaste kiss and it doesn’t make Neil feel anything except his normal affection for Matt.</p>
<p>Matt smiles at him, clearly feeling the same way, and smacks another kiss on his forehead. “Too bad,” he sighs.</p>
<p>“Would have been easier,” Neil admits, his heart aching.</p>
<p>“Let’s watch a movie,” Matt decides.</p>
<p>Later, when Neil’s dad gets home and finds them spooning on the couch, he raises an eyebrow. “Anything you want to tell me?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Yup,” says Neil, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “We’re madly in love and we’re going to elope to Mexico.”</p>
<p>“That sounds like a terrible plan,” replies his dad, kicking off his shoes and settling into the armchair. “What are we watching?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>On Monday, Neil’s walking into school when Matt grabs him and pulls him into the nearest room, which happens to be the boys’ bathroom.</p>
<p>“Can’t I arrive at school without being accosted?” Neil gripes. He grows concerned when Matt doesn’t react to his teasing. “What’s up? Why have you kidnapped me to this lovely locale?” Matt looks spooked and pale, causing Neil to sober up instantly. “What’s wrong? Did something happen with the faked drug tests?” he asks.</p>
<p>“No,” says Matt. “As soon as I got to the admin office this morning, I heard about Seth.”</p>
<p>Neil’s brow furrows. “What about Seth? He stood me up yesterday after all his complaining on Saturday. He better have a good explanation.”</p>
<p>“He’s dead,” says Matt in a dull voice.</p>
<p>“He’s—what?” Neil hears a rushing in his ears. He and Seth aren’t friends, exactly, but they’re not enemies anymore either. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Some kind of fight on Saturday night,” says Matt. “He was stabbed.”</p>
<p>“Do they know who did it?” asks Neil, anger and fear clogging his throat. This can’t be a coincidence. Seth said he had to show Neil something important.</p>
<p>“Neil,” says Matt seriously, holding him in place by the shoulders. “They’re saying Andrew killed Seth.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for this chapter: violence, mild gore, implied suicide, murder, minor panic attack</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrew walks into Wymack Investigations on Tuesday afternoon. As soon as Neil sees who opened the door, he’s up and rounding his desk. Andrew braces himself, as if expecting a blow, but Neil isn’t about to touch him without permission so he stops short and stares.</p><p>He cocks his head to examine Andrew closely; he looks awful. His eyes are bloodshot and have dark bags under them, his hair is sticking up at all angles, like it hasn’t been washed and Andrew’s been running his hands through it, and he’s covered in bruises and small cuts. There’s a particularly lurid blue-black bruise on his temple beside his left eye.</p><p>“All that time fighting and you never learned to duck?” Neil jokes weakly.</p><p>Andrew makes an abortive movement like he’s going to reach out to him.</p><p>Neil takes a step back out of range. “Did you kill him?” he asks. His emotions have been a roller coaster for the past two days, anger and grief and disbelief swirling around in his head.</p><p>“Do you need to ask?” retorts Andrew, his voice scratchy from disuse.</p><p>“I don’t know,” says Neil truthfully, meeting Andrew’s eyes. “Do I?”</p><p>Andrew stares back and holds his gaze for several charged moments. “I didn’t,” he finally admits. “At least, I don’t think so.”</p><p>“You don’t think so?” repeats Neil. “You’re not sure?”</p><p>“I don’t remember everything perfectly clearly.”</p><p>“You have an eidetic memory,” Neil reminds him. It’s something he learned way back in sophomore year.</p><p>Andrew gestures to his head. “I got a little rattled.”</p><p>Neil heads back to his desk chair and motions for Andrew to sit. “What happened?” he asks.</p><p>Andrew sits and studies the linoleum. “I was driving around,” he starts.</p><p>“Looking for a fight?” prompts Neil.</p><p>Andrew swallows and nods. “I was restless.”</p><p>“You haven’t been to school for two weeks.”</p><p>“Didn’t feel like it.”</p><p>“You felt like getting the shit kicked out of you instead?” asks Neil, unable to keep the judgment and annoyance out of his voice.</p><p>“Makes me feel alive,” says Andrew. “I was crossing the bridge when I saw a group of people in the middle of a disagreement.”</p><p>“You mean in the middle of a fight,” snarks Neil. “PCHers?”</p><p>Andrew shrugs. “There were motorcycles, but I didn’t recognize anyone. Well, not until later.”</p><p>“So you threw yourself into a gang fight?” demands Neil. “Do you have a death wish?”</p><p>“I was holding my own,” protests Andrew. “Until I caught an elbow in the face. Then I was thrown off balance and I hit the ground.”</p><p>“Then what?”</p><p>“Then I was kicked a lot.”</p><p>Neil attempts to hold his temper in. “And then?” he says with as much control as he can muster.</p><p>“Then I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I remember is waking up surrounded by sheriff deputies. Gordon was beside me, bleeding out. I was sticky from lying in his pool of blood.”</p><p>“God,” says Neil. “You’re lucky to be alive.”</p><p>“Am I,” replies Andrew emotionlessly.</p><p>Neil gives him a sharp look.</p><p>“You have to prove I didn’t kill him,” says Andrew.</p><p>“Why do you care?” snaps Neil. “It’s not like your life has any meaning to you, obviously.”</p><p>“Because I will not go to prison,” says Andrew, still sounding bored and detached. “One of the deputies already said something about a family reunion. I will not live long enough to go back where Drake can get at me, I can promise you that.”</p><p>Neil’s breath catches in his throat at the implication. “Have they even charged you with anything? They let you out,” he points out once he can safely speak without his voice wavering.</p><p>“On bail,” says Andrew. He plunks his left foot up on Neil’s desk and hitches up the leg of his jeans, showing an ankle monitor. “I have to wear this and stay in town. Apparently I’m a flight risk.”</p><p>“Suits you,” snarks Neil, before sighing, “Fine, I’ll help you. But shouldn’t your fancy lawyers have their own private investigator?”</p><p>Andrew avoids looking at him. “I don’t trust them.”</p><p>“Well, who did your parents hire? I’ll have to talk to them to find out what evidence the police have against you.”</p><p>Andrew fishes a business card out of his pocket. “George Waterhouse,” he reads slowly.</p><p>“He’s a fucking public defender!” Neil almost shouts. “I thought you just said you <em>didn’t</em> want to go to prison!” Waterhouse doesn’t have the time and resources a case like this requires.</p><p>Andrew frowns but doesn’t argue or explain himself.</p><p>“You stubborn son of a…” starts Neil, trailing off and reigning in his temper with serious effort. “Even if I find evidence you didn’t kill him, you’ll need a good defense lawyer,” he says as calmly as possible. “George is a good guy, but his specialty is petty crimes. You can afford a much better defense.”</p><p>“If it gets that far I promise I’ll get an expensive lawyer,” bargains Andrew. “My dad’s already tried to foist several on me.”</p><p>“And you didn’t take them because…?”</p><p>“Felt like cheating.”</p><p>Neil shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t know why I bother with you. Go home.”</p><p>“But—” says Andrew, looking up sharply.</p><p>“I’m taking your case, but you look like you haven’t showered or slept in days. Go home. Stay there and recover. It’ll probably be a couple days before the sheriff shares whatever evidence they have against you. I’ll contact you again after I talk with Waterhouse.”</p><p>Andrew hesitates as if he wants to say something more, but he nods and shuffles out of the office.</p><p>“You believe him?” asks Neil’s dad, coming out of his inner office, clearly having been eavesdropping.</p><p>“Yeah, but I don’t know whether to trust myself or not,” admits Neil. “I have a history of having a bit of a blind spot for him.”</p><p>“I could handle his case,” offers his dad.</p><p>“No,” replies Neil instantly. “I think this is something I have to do for myself.”</p><p>“I know,” says his dad, coming over to ruffle his hair. “But stay safe, alright? I have a bad feeling about this one.”</p><p>“Yeah,” agrees Neil, staring sightlessly at the frosted glass door Andrew just left through. “Me, too.”</p>
<hr/><p>Neil’s right that it takes several days before the medical examiner presents his final findings. He’s unable to catch up with George Waterhouse until Saturday morning, when he slides into the vinyl-covered booth across from him at a cheap diner.</p><p>“Georgio!” greets Neil. “What have you got for me?”</p><p>“What have <em>you</em> got for <em>me</em>?” Waterhouse retorts. “I want three of whatever’s got you so cheerful.”</p><p>“I’m always cheerful,” pouts Neil.</p><p>“Uh huh,” says Waterhouse.</p><p>“So I hear you’re the one giving Andrew Spear legal advice.”</p><p>“I gave him amazing legal advice,” snorts Waterhouse. “I advised him to get a better lawyer.”</p><p>“So did I, no offense—”</p><p>“None taken.”</p><p>“—but he was strangely reluctant. So it’s you and me until he wises up. What do the police have on him?”</p><p>“Honestly, not much,” says Waterhouse, pulling out his notebook. “He had knives on him, but none of them were a match for Gordon’s stab wound.” He slides on his reading glasses and peers closely at the page. “He had flat knives in his armbands—”</p><p>“Wait, what?” interrupts Neil. “That fucker dives head first into a gang fight while armed with <em>knives</em> and he had the gall to say he doesn’t have a death wish?”</p><p>Waterhouse’s expression over his glasses is amused.</p><p>“Go on,” Neil grumbles.</p><p>“The knife that killed Gordon had a triangular cross section,” Waterhouse reads. “That’s rare, so the murder weapon is probably at least minorly unique.”</p><p>“They didn’t recover it?” Neil asks.</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“Then why the hell do they think Andrew did it?”</p><p>“The evidence is shoddy and a worse lawyer than me could successfully argue to drop the charges,” admits Waterhouse. “Except for the eyewitness.”</p><p>“Eyewitness?” Neil asks, perking up. “Is one of the PCHers pointing the finger at him?”</p><p>“Actually, no,” replies Waterhouse. “The sheriff’s office interviewed as many members of the gang as they could, but none of them provided reliable testimony. Everyone said something contradictory, none of them admitted to being on the scene, and at least one of them wouldn’t even concede that Gordon was there. The eyewitness is one Doctor Francois Proust.”</p><p>“Dr. Proust…” mutters Neil. The name sounds familiar, but he can’t place where he’s heard it.</p><p>“He’s a licensed psychiatrist, practicing in Palmetto,” says Waterhouse, sliding over a page with Dr. Proust’s information on it. “He gave a statement to the sheriff the day after Gordon’s death. Apparently he was returning to town from a day conference in San Diego and was crossing the bridge in the opposite direction when he saw an altercation.”</p><p>“The fight that Andrew mentioned?”</p><p>“He claims he only saw Andrew’s car and Gordon’s motorcycle stopped in the other lane; no one else.”</p><p>“So his story directly contradicts Andrew’s.”</p><p>“Yes. He says he saw Andrew and Gordon fighting, with Gordon having the upper hand.”</p><p>“Explaining Andrew’s injuries.”</p><p>“Precisely. Then Gordon doubled over after a hit from Andrew, clutching his chest. Dr. Proust says he saw Andrew throw something over the bridge railing—presumably the murder weapon—and then collapse from his injuries next to Gordon’s slowly-bleeding-out body.”</p><p>“He’s the one who called 9-1-1?”</p><p>“According to him, he called from a nearby payphone and then went home.”</p><p>Neil gapes at him. “What? Why?”</p><p>Waterhouse shrugs. “He was worried about getting involved in gang violence.”</p><p>Neil bites his lip and takes a sip from Waterhouse’s coffee mug. “So it’s Andrew’s word against this Dr. Proust’s,” he muses. “He’s the only thing holding the case together right now.”</p><p>“Right,” agrees Waterhouse, swatting Neil’s hands away from his drink. “But he’s a respected professional. Nobody’s going to believe a kid who’s known to be violent and has been to juvie over him.” He pops a bite of sausage into his mouth. “Unless <em>somebody</em> can find evidence that he’s lying.”</p><p>“Why’s the sheriff’s office so set against Andrew?” asks Neil. “Or care about Seth’s death at all?” It’s merciless, but Seth wouldn’t be the first PCHer who died in mysterious circumstances and had their death ignored.</p><p>“Some kind of external pressure, I think,” says Waterhouse. “The mayor’s currently running a ‘clean up Palmetto’ campaign. And the Spears may be rich, but they’re on the outs due to Drake Spear’s arrest and upcoming trial. Andrew makes a good scapegoat; Andritch won’t piss off many of the richer families and he’ll appease the poorer ones by pretending to care about them.”</p><p>“So all I have to do is get some dirt on Proust.”</p><p>“Assuming there is any,” points out Waterhouse.</p><p>“You think Andrew’s lying?” challenges Neil.</p><p>“I think he’s a dumb kid who made dumb choices. I’m not convinced he committed murder, but I’m not convinced he didn’t, either.”</p><p>“He’s not a kid. He’s eighteen.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry. He’s clearly a wise adult.”</p><p>“I only meant he’ll get tried as an adult,” says Neil. “So we better make damn sure he deserves it.”</p>
<hr/><p>Dr. Proust has a small clinic on Ocean Avenue. It’s open until noon on Saturdays, so Neil drops in to talk to the receptionist about potentially becoming a client. She looks at him disapprovingly and tells him he needs to get a referral from his primary care physician. Neil argues with her just long enough to get a glimpse of Proust as he passes by to pick up his next patient’s file. Then Neil takes the pamphlets offered—one about reenactment therapy and another about hypnosis—and heads back to his car to wait. He reads the background information he printed off about Proust from his PI database to pass the time, but nothing incriminating jumps out at him.</p><p>Proust leaves his clinic a little after 12:30; Neil tails him carefully as he runs several errands. He doesn’t even know where to start looking for evidence that will discredit Proust. He could break into his home, probably, although that’s more of a last resort. Neil’s getting pretty close to his own eighteenth birthday (he ignores the fact that his birth certificate he found in his mother’s safe says he’s already past eighteen) and he could do without a permanent breaking and entering charge on his record.</p><p>After stopping by the drug store and the grocery store, Proust heads into a tiny cigar shop. It seems an odd place for him to go and worthy of a closer look, so Neil gives him two minutes before following him in. However, Proust is nowhere to be seen. Neil snoops as much as he can before one of the employees spots him and he spins a yarn about wanting to buy his dad cigars. By the time he extracts himself and gets back outside, Proust’s car is gone. He must have left out the back while Neil was inside.</p><p>Neil sighs in exasperation and heads home.</p><p>His dad is at the bar counter, paperwork spread all around him. “Lunch?” he asks hopefully when Neil comes in.</p><p>“Was that an offer, or are you expecting me to make it for you?” replies Neil, greeting Backup.</p><p>“In my capacity as your primary caregiver, I was reminding you that lunch is an important part of the day,” says his dad. “And was hoping you’d make extra for your poor, overworked father.”</p><p>“Ha,” deapans Neil. He leans over his dad’s shoulder to see what he’s working on. “Tax forms?” he asks, pretending to gag.</p><p>“Part of the joy of being an adult,” says his dad, wrinkling his nose. “How was your morning? Were you with Andrew?”</p><p>“No,” says Neil, puzzled, as he heads to the fridge to get the ingredients for grilled cheese sandwiches. “Why would I be?”</p><p>His dad shrugs. “I dunno. You smell like an ashtray and unless you spent the morning taking up smoking, that usually only happens after you spend time with him.”</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil, shaking his head. “No, I went into a cigar shop to use their restroom.”</p><p>“The one on King Street, near Ocean?” asks his dad.</p><p>“Yeah, why?”</p><p>“Find other facilities next time.”</p><p>“I could whip it out and pee in an alleyway,” jokes Neil. “But last I checked public urination is frowned on.”</p><p>“I mean it, Neil,” says his dad seriously. “That place is notorious for dealing drugs. I’m pretty sure the Ravens move their product through there. I tried to bust it about twenty times when I was sheriff, but I could never get the charges to stick.”</p><p>“Huh,” says Neil, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Interesting.”</p>
<hr/><p>Neil’s clipping on Backup’s leash as he leaves his house the next morning in the pre-dawn gloom, when a figure detaches itself from the shadows next to his front door and takes a step towards him. He reacts with a punch to the solar plexus and grabs for his taser before he notes Backup’s lack of vicious reaction.</p><p>He backs up several steps and crosses his arms over his chest. “I thought we went over how creepy and invasive it is to lurk around outside my house the last time you did it,” he says.</p><p>Andrew wheezes and rubs his chest, glaring up at Neil. “I just got here,” he says. “I know you go for a run at ungodly hours of the morning.”</p><p>“So why aren’t you still in bed?”</p><p>“Bored,” says Andrew. “You said you were going to talk to Waterhouse yesterday.”</p><p>“You’re here for an update?” asks Neil incredulously. “Client meetings take place at the office.”</p><p>He brushes by Andrew and heads to his car. Usually he and Backup circle his neighbourhood, but if Andrew wants to talk, it’ll be better to let Backup get his exercise at the dog beach. He hears Andrew fall into step behind him.</p><p>“Is that what I am?” asks Andrew. “A client?”</p><p>“What else would you be?” retorts Neil. He lets Backup into the backseat and points at the passenger seat. “Get in. If you’re intent on following me, we’re not taking two cars.”</p><p>Andrew seems to ignore him, bypassing Neil’s car to open his own. But he only ducks into it for a moment, and comes out carrying two take out coffee cups. He climbs into Neil’s car and passes one of the cups over.</p><p>“I don’t accept bribes,” claims Neil, sipping the coffee. It tastes expensive; the kind of $8 brew he never wastes his hard-earned money on.</p><p>“It’s not a—” starts Andrew. “It’s friendly. We’re friends.”</p><p>“Are we,” deadpans Neil, not quite understanding Andrew’s angle. He supposes it makes sense Andrew wants him on his side, at least until he’s cleared of charges. He decides to change the subject. “If you’re so bored, you could go to school,” he says slyly.</p><p>“My dad’s making me go back tomorrow,” admits Andrew.</p><p>“Are you even going to graduate at this rate?” wonders Neil.</p><p>“Why not? When I was out for detox and for Drake, I did all my assignments. As long as I actually get passing marks in my classes, there’s no way they’re going to fail me for attendance issues. Not with how much money my parents donate.”</p><p>“Sometimes I really want to punch you,” says Neil.</p><p>“Only sometimes?” replies Andrew. “You already got me once this morning.”</p><p>“Serves you right,” sniffs Neil.</p><p>The rest of the short drive to the beach is filled with Neil catching Andrew up on his discussion with Waterhouse the day previously.</p><p>“Dr. Proust?” muses Andrew.</p><p>“Do you know him?” Neil asks, as they trudge through the sand as Backup sprints ahead of them.</p><p>“Sort of,” admits Andrew. “I’ve never met him and don’t know him by sight, but he prescribed the medication I was put on last summer.”</p><p>“He prescribed it without ever meeting you?” asks Neil. Hmmm, what do you get when you combine a doctor who has no trouble giving out prescriptions in exchange for money and a bunch of drug dealers…</p><p>“My mom got him to,” says Andrew. “She wasn’t happy when Bee wouldn’t.”</p><p>“Bee?”</p><p>“Dr. Dobson,” clarifies Andrew. “I think you eavesdropped on her conversation with my parents last fall? She’s my therapist.”</p><p>“You see a therapist?” asks Neil, agog. “Willingly?”</p><p>“Yeah, well, <em>some</em> of us are trying to work through our trauma.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Neil objects immediately.</p><p>“Sure you are,” drawls Andrew. “Anyway, I didn’t want to start seeing her, but around two years ago, my mom gave me an ultimatum. It was the spring of sophomore year and I was getting into all those fights, remember?”</p><p>“After Kevin and I got together and you stopped talking to me?” says Neil.</p><p>Andrew shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was going through something,” he mumbles. “Cass got it into her head that Palmetto was bad for me and announced we were moving back to LA. I had Aaron and Nicky and Kevin.” He looks up and meets Neil’s eyes. “And you. I didn’t want to go.”</p><p>“She made you go to therapy?”</p><p>“To curb my self-destructive tendencies,” nods Andrew.</p><p>Neil huffs a humourless laugh. “How’s that going?”</p><p>“Hit and miss,” replies Andrew, apparently seriously. “I made her agree that I got final say on the therapist, figuring I’d just scare everyone off. But Bee didn’t cave. She stuck with me, so I stuck with her.”</p><p>“And Dr. Proust?”</p><p>“As I said, Bee wouldn’t give in to my mother’s demands to put me on medication since I was so against it. My mom found a way around it and forced me to take the pills starting last May.”</p><p>“Until you became extra self-destructive to convince her to stop,” says Neil.</p><p>“Until then. I don’t know why this Proust is lying about what he saw, but he’s clearly susceptible to payoffs.”</p><p>“And maybe involved with the Ravens somehow,” adds Neil.</p><p>“What do the Ravens have to do with anything?”</p><p>“I don’t know, except Seth said something about them moving in on his turf a couple months ago,” admits Neil. “Maybe the fight you dove head first into was bigger than you thought.”</p><p>Andrew makes an interested noise, but doesn’t offer any comment. “So what are we doing today? Following Proust some more?”</p><p>“Excuse me, what do you mean, <em>we</em>?” sputters Neil.</p><p>“I’m going with you,” says Andrew, as if it’s obvious.</p><p>“Uh, no, you’re not,” replies Neil. He’s planning on spending the majority of his day in the car, depending on Proust’s activities. He’s not interested in being in Andrew’s presence in close quarters for so long, especially since things are still so weird between them.</p><p>“I’m not going to sit at home with my thumb up my ass while my future is being decided.”</p><p>“Really, you spend the whole time fingering yourself when you’re home alone?” snarks Neil. “And since when do you care about your future?”</p><p>Andrew’s face is set. “I’m coming with you,” he says stubbornly. “Especially if the Ravens might be involved.”</p><p>“So you can get a second gang after you?”</p><p>“You might need backup.”</p><p>“I have Backup,” says Neil, indicating his dog who is currently trying to catch ocean waves in his mouth.</p><p>“Neil,” says Andrew, dropping his aggressive stance. He looks defeated and exhausted. “Plea—”</p><p>“Don’t you fucking dare,” snaps Neil. He glares at Andrew, knowing how he feels about that word. He can’t believe Andrew’s using their past sharing of secrets to manipulate him. “<em>Never</em> do that again.” He threads his fingers through his own hair and yanks in annoyance. “Fine,” he relents. “You can come with me. But we’re taking my car. And you’ll do what I say.”</p><p>“Alright,” replies Andrew placidly.</p><p>“And you can stop being so fucking smug, asshole,” grumps Neil.</p>
<hr/><p>Neil has no idea why Andrew wants to come on his stake out. Possibly he has no concept of how boring it is. He certainly doesn’t seem to want to talk, sitting in near-perfect silence and playing games on his phone in the passenger seat.</p><p>The quiet is getting to Neil; it’s not the painfully awkward variety, like during the car trip he took with Kevin back in the fall. No, it’s comfortable and familiar from lazy Sunday afternoons he spent over at the Spears’ mansion. Back then, they’d spent a lot of their time in silence; Neil sometimes felt that being in Andrew’s presence was the only time he didn’t have to perform. Andrew always took him as he was and didn’t expect him to be anything else. Until suddenly he hadn’t.</p><p>“I’m still mad at you,” blurts Neil out of nowhere.</p><p>Andrew stills for a second and turns off his phone. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I didn’t intend you any harm at Janie’s party.”</p><p>“I—what?” asks Neil. “I’m not talking about that!” He still feels shitty about that, but he knows objectively that what happened isn’t exactly Andrew’s fault. Some truth and communication likely would have helped, but that’s true of multiple people.</p><p>“Then why are you mad at me?”</p><p>“We were friends! You were probably my <em>best</em> friend, along with Jean. And then you just dropped me without warning at the end of sophomore year.”</p><p>Andrew seems taken aback by Neil’s vehemence. “You were dating Kevin. I figured you wouldn’t miss me.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“I thought the two of us… It doesn’t matter what I thought,” says Andrew. “You chose Kevin. I didn’t take it well.”</p><p>Neil laughs mirthlessly. “You want to know why I ‘chose’ Kevin? The reason I was with him instead of you?”</p><p>Andrew looks out the far window and doesn’t reply.</p><p>“Because he fucking asked me,” says Neil. “He didn’t tell me he wanted to peel the skin from my body and assume I knew that meant he had a crush on me.”</p><p>“I didn’t have a crush,” mutters Andrew mulishly. “I thought you were hot. Besides, you told me you didn’t swing.”</p><p>“I didn’t think I did,” admits Neil. “I still don’t really. Only for certain people. If you’d asked, I would have said yes.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter now,” says Andrew.</p><p>“Nope, that ship has sailed,” agrees Neil. He reaches over to turn on the radio, hoping for something to drown out his thoughts. The radio sputters and dies, piece of garbage that it is. Neil whacks his dashboard a couple times before giving up with a sigh.</p><p>Andrew watches him out of the corner of his eye for a couple moments before unlocking his phone again. He fiddles with it and tinny music starts to flow out of the crappy speaker. Neil doesn’t recognize what it is—frankly, it sounds like a bunch of instruments being murdered horribly—but he appreciates the gesture.</p><p>They take a quick break for lunch once Neil’s stomach starts to rumble, taking a trip to the closest drive through. Andrew orders an absurd amount of food, but also shoves over more than enough cash to cover their entire meal.</p><p>“Expenses,” he shrugs, rebuffing Neil’s attempts to give him back his change. He then forces some of his food onto Neil, claiming he ordered more than he could possibly eat.</p><p>Neil doesn’t particularly want Andrew’s charity or bribery or whatever the hell is going on, but he’s also not going to object too loudly to not having to pay for lunch.</p><p>The afternoon is spent much the same way as the morning; hanging around Proust’s house to see if he goes anywhere suspicious on his day off. Neil’s just about to give up and head home when Proust finally makes an appearance, sauntering out of his house. He gets in his car and starts driving.</p><p>“There he goes,” says Andrew unnecessarily.</p><p>“I see him.”</p><p>“Aren’t we following him?”</p><p>“Yes, but sneakily,” says Neil. “Tailgating him is a good way to get noticed.”</p><p>“He’s going to get away.” Andrew points at Proust’s receding tail lights.</p><p>“He’s not getting away,” replies Neil, rolling his eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”</p><p>Despite Andrew’s almost audible doubt, Neil does, in fact, know what he’s doing. He eases his car away from the curb and follows Proust, keeping back several car lengths to avoid being noticed.</p><p>The sun’s starting to set when Proust reaches his destination; a scrubby little bar on the wrong side of town. It’s called the <em>Three-Legged Crow</em> and Neil only knows it by reputation. He throws an arm across Andrew’s chest to stop him when he undoes his seatbelt and makes to get out of the car.</p><p>Andrew freezes under his touch and Neil snatches his hand away. “Sorry,” he says. “But stay in the car.”</p><p>“He could be doing something shady in there,” protests Andrew.</p><p>“He probably is,” agrees Neil. “Especially since that place is notorious for being a Ravens’ bar. Which is why I’m going to stealthily get some pictures of him through the windows and you’re going to stay in the goddamn car.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“The agreement was that you’d do what I told you,” says Neil. “Stay here.” He pauses. “You’re right. It’s an awful lot like bringing Backup.”</p><p>Andrew’s expression is unimpressed as Neil shuts the door behind him, but he at least stays put.</p><p>Neil circles the grungy building, crouching low and skirting behind any visual barriers to keep out of sight of the windows as much as he can. He slips through a narrow alleyway into an overgrown yard that may once have been a back patio for the bar. It’s fenced in by chain-link fencing and corrugated metal sheets, making Neil feel closed in and barricaded.</p><p>Holding his breath, he presses himself against the back wall of the bar, peering in the grungy window at his side. It’s quite smudged, but is transparent enough for him to get a look at the interior. It has a pretty-typical bar decor, with a couple pool tables, a dart board, and even a guy performing tattoos in the far corner. The only exception is the ceremonial knives and swords that adorn the walls. He spots a collection of knives with oddly-shaped blades. They are folded instead of flat and he bets they have triangular cross-sections. He’s not sure anyone is stupid or arrogant enough to display an actual murder weapon in public, but then again, this bar has never successfully been raided by the sheriff’s department, despite myriad attempts. Maybe he’s in luck and overconfidence will be their undoing.</p><p>He crouches down, pulling out his camera to take pictures of the dangerous wall-decorations. He makes sure to turn off his flash, and is just about to raise his head when he’s grabbed from behind. He’s picked up by the scruff of his neck and slammed into the brick wall.</p><p>“Ow,” he says as his cheek scrapes along the rough exterior of the building.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?” the person holding him asks.</p><p>“I’m an architecture student at Hearst and this building has unique design elements,” he hurries to explain. “I’m sorry if I overstepped; I can go now.”</p><p>“I don’t think so,” is the retort. The grip on Neil loosens, but only to pull him away from the wall. The big guy wraps an arm around him and drags Neil around the side of the building and into the bar.</p><p>Neil struggles ineffectually, feeling like a kitten being carried around by a bulldog. The guy shoves him through the door and Neil stumbles before regaining his balance, scanning the room for other exits.</p><p>“This guy claims he’s a student at the local college,” announces the guy who dragged him in.</p><p>“Jenkins, don’t be a moron,” says a silky-smooth voice that Neil wishes he didn’t recognize. Riko Moriyama pushes himself away from the far end of the bar where he’s seated beside Ricky Williams, smirking like the entitled asshole he is. “Don’t you recognize the ex-sheriff’s brat? That’s Neil Wymack.”</p><p>“Riko,” says Neil, brushing himself off. “I was kinda hoping someone would’ve set you on fire by now.”</p><p>“Hilarious,” drawls Riko. “Get his camera.”</p><p>Neil immediately moves to protect it, but Jenkins is both bigger and stronger than him. He pries the camera from Neil’s hands and dashes it on the floor. It bounces at first, although Neil can see the screen is cracked. He has hopes for its continued survival until Jenkins pulls a pool cue from its holder on the wall and smashes the poor, dependable camera into bits of plastic and glass.</p><p>Neil watches in dismay, but he hasn’t lost his wits completely. With Jenkins distracted, he inches his way towards the door. If he can get a clear line, he can make a break for it.</p><p>“Grab him,” says Riko, and several other bar patrons descend on Neil.</p><p>He kicks out at them and tries to go for his taser, but his wrist is grabbed and squeezed so tightly he can practically hear the bones grinding together. He’s lifted off his feet and slammed down on the nearest pool table. He stares at the ceiling, dazed, as the breath is knocked out of him. He’s beginning to think he may be in real danger.</p><p>Riko saunters closer. “Is this your pathetic payback?” he asks.</p><p>“What, for locking me in my trunk and drugging me?” Neil retorts, taking a guess that his recent misfortunes had in fact been Riko’s doing.</p><p>“You forgot getting Luke to frame you,” adds Riko.</p><p>“Which failed horribly, like all your attempts to rattle me,” says Neil, with more bravado than he’s feeling. “You should face it; you’re not that smart.”</p><p>Riko’s face twists in anger. “I should gut you like I gutted the other one.”</p><p>“Are you seriously confessing to murder in a crowded, public bar?” says Neil.</p><p>“Look around,” says Riko, spreading his arms to indicate the room. “All these people are mine. They do what I say. I can kill you now with one of the tanto on the walls and they’ll never tell a soul.”</p><p>Neil eyes his surroundings. It’s true that most patrons, save for the two holding him down, aren’t even glancing in his direction. Why the hell are these gang members listening to a self-important rich teenager? They should have beaten Riko down when he showed up with lofty ideas of being in charge, not gone along with his whims. Something isn’t right here.</p><p>“Or,” continues Riko, leaning down over Neil, “maybe I’ll just make you my bitch.”</p><p>Neil spits in his face. Riko reels back and then surges forward, grabbing Neil by the chin.</p><p>“You’re going to regret that,” he sneers. He looks up. “You,” he commands, “with the tattoo gun; come over here. We’re going to mark up his face so he remembers who he belongs to.”</p><p>Neil starts struggling anew, panicking now, but Riko’s holding his head in an iron grip. There’s nothing he can do as the buzz of the tattoo gun stops and heavy footsteps approach.</p><p>“What’s the address here,” comes Andrew’s bored voice from the bar’s entrance. Everybody in the room stops and stares at him. He has his phone up to his ear, and when no one answers him, he resumes speaking into it, “Oh, well, you can probably find me. I’m wearing an ankle monitor. Send all the officers you have; there’s blood everywhere.” He hangs up and pockets it, giving Riko a challenging look. “Neil and I will be going now.”</p><p>Riko snarls and rounds on him. “If you think—”</p><p>Andrew brings up his other hand, showing that he’s holding a gun. “Don’t come any closer,” he threatens, holding his weapon in a steady hand. “Neil? Let’s go now.”</p><p>Riko looks like he’s swallowed something foul tasting, but he nods sharply at the two men holding Neil down. Neil can’t help gasping in relief as he springs to his feet, rushing to leave. As soon as he is within arm’s reach, Andrew uses his free hand to shove him past him as he slowly backs out of the bar, his gun still trained on Riko. Once they’re out of the building, he turns and ushers Neil back to the car, bundling him into the passenger seat, and then taking off so fast Neil can smell rubber burning.</p><p>Andrew only stops once they’ve reached his own neighbourhood, and they’re surrounded by huge lots and million dollar homes. Neil’s composure breaks, the events of the last half hour hitting him all at once. He moans, low in his throat, and leans over his lap, breathing rapidly. Andrew turns to him and reaches out to grip the back of his neck.</p><p>Neil shakes him off and rounds on him angrily. “A gun, Andrew!?” he practically shouts. “I thought you <em>weren’t</em> interested in dying!”</p><p>Andrew appears confused by his outburst. “It’s not loaded,” he offers.</p><p>“I’m not sure that’s better,” says Neil, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself under control. “Fuck, my camera,” he laments. It was expensive; he doesn’t have the funds to replace it.</p><p>Andrew abortively reaches for him again.</p><p>“Don’t touch me, I’m angry at you,” snaps Neil.</p><p>They sit in tense silence as Neil’s heart rate slows down. No need to panic, he tells himself. Everything is alright now. Well, except for the megalomaniac who has possibly already committed one murder and seems to think he owns Neil. That’s probably going to be an issue at some point.</p><p>“I recognized some of those people,” says Andrew hesitantly.</p><p>“Like Riko and his buddy Ricky over by the bar?” asks Neil sarcastically.</p><p>“No, some of the older guys were there the night Gordon was killed,” replies Andrew. “Riko wasn’t, as far as I saw.”</p><p>Neil shakes his head. “So he could be lying about killing Seth to make himself feel important,” he muses. “Or maybe he told someone to do it. The guys you recognize must be Ravens. You interrupted a fight between the bikers and the Ravens, congratulations.”</p><p>“You think the Ravens killed Gordon?”</p><p>“It’s looking that way, although I don’t know why,” says Neil. “Doesn’t matter. It’s Proust we have to discredit; accusing the Ravens of a crime isn’t going to get us very far, especially without any proof.”</p><p>“What about the knives at the bar? We could sneak in and find the murder weapon?”</p><p>“Yeah?” asks Neil heatedly. “And how are we going to do that without tripping their security? They must have motion sensors or something, given how fast they knew I was trespassing. Besides, who knows which of those knives was used, or even if one of them was? And it likely wouldn’t be admissible evidence anyway. No, we’re giving them a wide berth from now on.”</p><p>“Are you scared?”</p><p>Neil gives him a flat look. “Some of us want to live long enough to graduate high school,” he says. He rubs his temples. “What I don’t understand is why the hell the Ravens are humouring Riko like that. Even if he was recruited to their gang, he wouldn’t have any clout by now.”</p><p>Andrew’s face turns thoughtful. “I know someone who may know the answer to that,” he says, turning the key in the ignition.</p><p>“Hey, it’s my car,” argues Neil.</p><p>“Only people who haven’t had a panic attack in the last half hour are allowed to drive,” replies Andrew.</p><p>He winds through the streets, not leaving the 90909 neighbourhood. Eventually, he pulls up to a large, well-appointed house. It’s not one of the mansions that people like Kevin and Andrew live in, but it’s clearly the house of someone who doesn’t have to worry about choosing between a new camera and eating.</p><p>Andrew looks at ease here, walking up the front steps like he’s done it before. Neil follows, swivelling his head to get a good look at the place. He has no idea where they are; he can’t think of anyone Andrew regularly interacts with besides Nicky, Aaron, or Kevin.</p><p>An average height brown-haired woman responds to the doorbell; Neil recognizes her from Channel six’s nightly newscast.</p><p>“Andrew!” greets Stephanie Walker, Renee’s adoptive mother. She looks at Andrew with concern. “I heard the news.”</p><p>“I wasn’t me, it was the one-armed man,” replies Andrew.</p><p>Ms. Walker rolls her eyes fondly and lets them in, her gaze shifting past Andrew to land on Neil.</p><p>“Neil Wymack,” he says, offering her a hand to shake.</p><p>“Oh, Neil,” she says, sounding delighted. She sends a quick glance to Andrew before focusing on him again. “I’ve heard so much about you, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Renee’s in her room, if you boys want to go up?”</p><p>Andrew nods and heads up the staircase, again appearing at ease and if he’s made the trip multiple times. He stops at the third door on the right and knocks in a pattern, before pushing the door open.</p><p>“Andrew,” greets Renee, face splitting into a smile as they enter the room. She’s sitting at a desk, surrounded by papers; Neil can’t tell if she’s doing homework or something else. “And Neil,” she continues, looking briefly taken aback at his presence.</p><p>She and Andrew have a completely non-verbal exchange, before Andrew shrugs and throws himself on her bed, bouncing a little as he lands on top of the comforter.</p><p>“I’m helping Andrew prove his innocence,” supplies Neil, when it becomes obvious that Andrew isn’t going to say anything.</p><p>“That’s kind of you,” says Renee approvingly.</p><p>Neil twitches restlessly. “A job’s a job,” he says.</p><p>She hums thoughtfully, watching him with sharp eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she finally offers.</p><p>“Ravens,” says Andrew suddenly.</p><p>The reaction is instantaneous. Renee freezes completely, her eyes darting to Andrew as if for confirmation. He sits up and crosses his legs, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans forward.</p><p>“Specifically, what the hell Riko Moriyama is doing with the Ravens,” he clarifies.</p><p>Neil watches the whole interaction with interest.</p><p>Renee nods once and swallows heavily. “I don’t know much,” she says. “Only bits of things I overheard.”</p><p>“The gang your mother was with,” says Neil in realization, remembering what Renee told him last week about being an addict. “It was the Ravens?”</p><p>Renee nods again. “It’s… she wasn’t very high in the hierarchy. But when I was about seven or eight she was dating someone important. He was… heavy handed,” she said, clearly picking her words carefully, “so I kept away from him, but I couldn’t keep away at all times. He said a couple things that I have always remembered and pretended I didn’t.”</p><p>Neil tilts his head in confusion. “Why?”</p><p>“Cause if they knew I overheard them, they never would have let me leave,” admits Renee.</p><p>“You don’t have to—” starts Neil.</p><p>“I want to help,” Renee cuts him off firmly. “This was back when the Raven’s main stomping ground was the Heights.”</p><p>“Seth said something about that,” says Neil. “How they drove the property values down before they were chased out by law enforcement.”</p><p>“I think it was more planned than that,” says Renee. “Do you know who benefited the most when the Ravens left that neighbourhood? Real estate developers who scooped up all the properties at rock bottom prices, then were able to improve them and make a ridiculous profit once the gang was supposedly eradicated.”</p><p>“Real estate developers like Kengo Moriyama,” supplies Neil. “You think he made a deal with the Ravens.”</p><p>“I heard my mother’s boyfriend refer to him as Lord Moriyama,” says Renee. “And as Boss. It wasn’t widely known, because—”</p><p>“Because he’s built his reputation as a respectable businessman,” realizes Neil, filling in. “Because having ties to organized crime could sink him.”</p><p>“Be careful,” warns Renee, looking back and forth between Neil and Andrew. “I think this is a secret the Moriyama family is willing to kill for.”</p><p>“I think they already have,” says Neil.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I want to thank everyone who's reading and commenting... you guys are the reason I keep sharing my stories.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrew is waiting outside Neil’s place with his now-customary expensive coffee and pastries when Neil gets home from his morning walk with Backup.</p>
<p>“You still haven’t learned boundaries yet, I see,” says Neil, unlocking the door and letting Andrew follow him inside. “At least you’ve stopped lurking in the shadows when I’m inside.”</p>
<p>“You get up too early,” complains Andrew, pulling a brown paper takeout bag from inside a plastic bag and setting it on the counter.</p>
<p>Andrew has become a regular fixture at Neil’s place for the last two weeks, ever since Neil’s run-in with Riko at the <em>Three-Legged Crow</em>. Neil’s not quite sure what his angle is, but he keeps bringing food so Neil hadn’t turned him away yet. He even came by a couple times during the week when Neil was too busy to tail Proust anywhere. He’d simply sat quietly and done his homework with Neil. If Neil didn’t know any better, he’d guess Andrew is lonely.</p>
<p>Andrew clears his throat and passes over his plastic bag and then immediately busies himself fishing pastries from the takeout bag.</p>
<p>Neil’s taken aback, wondering what Andrew’s giving him. Glancing in the bag makes him gasp as he catches sight of a Nikon box. He pulls it out, letting the plastic bag drift to the floor, and finds an exact copy of his camera that was destroyed during his run-in with the Ravens.</p>
<p>“Andrew…” he says, words deserting him.</p>
<p>“You lost yours while working for me,” says Andrew, staring contemplatively at his sugar-covered pastry. “Consider it an expense.”</p>
<p>“I can’t take this,” says Neil. He knows he should hand it back to Andrew but is having difficulty relaxing his grip on the box.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure what I’m going to do with a camera like that.”</p>
<p>“It’s too much.”</p>
<p>“Stop being so stubborn,” says Andrew.</p>
<p>Neil scoffs. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” He cradles the camera closer to himself. He doesn’t want to refuse it; he really does need it. “You didn’t have to… but, thank you.”</p>
<p>“Another super exciting stakeout today?” asks Andrew, gracelessly changing the subject.</p>
<p>Neil suspects that Proust was tipped off by the Ravens that his activities are being monitored. He hasn’t done anything remotely interesting for the past two weekends, nor during the week whenever Neil has a chance to check up on him.</p>
<p>“Nope,” says Neil. “Proust is out of town and I have a prior commitment.”</p>
<p>Andrew looks at him expectantly.</p>
<p>“I’m going to the Senior Carnival,” Neil announces.</p>
<p>It’s a yearly Palmetto tradition. The senior class at Palmetto high organizes a carnival as a fundraiser for the senior class trip. Dan (with her army of—mostly willing—helpers) has been running around like a panicked chicken for the last week or so, getting everything set up and ready.</p>
<p>“Why,” says Andrew, more a statement than a question.</p>
<p>“Because I promised Dan I would, and they’re usually pretty fun. Have you ever been before?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m going,” says Neil defiantly. “You can shut up and come with me or—”</p>
<p>“Okay,” agrees Andrew, before Neil can finish his sentence.</p>
<p>“...Okay?” echoes Neil after a beat.</p>
<p>“Okay, I’ll go with you.”</p>
<p>“You’re taking this guard dog thing a little too seriously,” says Neil. Andrew has refused to let Neil do any work on his case alone, claiming that he needs someone to have his back against the Ravens. “I hardly think I can get into trouble at a school carnival.”</p>
<p>“Only someone who’s never met you would believe that,” dismisses Andrew.</p>
<p>“Fair,” allows Neil. “But if you’re coming, you’d better win me a stuffed animal.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The quad and both school parking lots have been cleared to make way for the event. A ferris wheel is on site, rented from a local company, as well as a couple other small rides and midway-type attractions. Stands selling food are interspersed between the games. All the booths are manned by members of the school’s clubs and a large crowd is already milling about, despite how early in the day it is.</p>
<p>Neil makes a beeline for the snow cone stand, where he knows Matt is stationed for the morning.</p>
<p>“Neil!” Matt greets happily, scooping ice into a paper cone and squirting luridly coloured sugar syrup over top. He hands it off to his customer and then turns his full attention on Neil and Andrew. “Hey guys, what’s up? Want a snow cone?”</p>
<p>“No,” says Neil at the same moment Andrew replies in the affirmative. Neil stares at him. “You just demolished three bear claws and a couple donuts. You don’t need any more sugar.”</p>
<p>“You can never have too much sugar,” argues Matt. “What flavour do you want?”</p>
<p>Andrew cocks his head in consideration. “Blue,” he decides.</p>
<p>“That’s not a flavour,” protests Neil.</p>
<p>“Actually, can you mix red and blue to give me purple?” asks Andrew, ignoring him.</p>
<p>“We have purple,” says Matt, pointing to the appropriate spigot.</p>
<p>“Grape,” says Andrew, wrinkling his nose.</p>
<p>“Fair enough,” says Matt, taking the money Andrew hands over and giving him back his change before making his snow cone.</p>
<p>“Am I going to have to roll you home?” Neil asks.</p>
<p>“Probably,” says Andrew placidly. “We haven’t even gotten to the funnel cakes yet.”</p>
<p>“And <em>you</em> didn’t even want to come,” says Neil pointedly.</p>
<p>Matt glances between them, but thankfully doesn’t tease Neil like he so clearly wants to. He sends Neil a surreptitious questioning look when Andrew’s attention is on the snow cone. Neil shrugs and Matt gives him a thumbs up, then leans over the booth to smack a kiss to Neil’s forehead.</p>
<p>“Alright, go have fun,” instructs Matt. “Don’t make any new enemies and I’ll see you later.”</p>
<p>Andrew watches the interaction without expression, but says, “You and Matt seem close,” as he and Neil walk away from his stall.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s my best friend,” replies Neil absently, craning his head to see what’s around. “He’s a pretty good kisser, too.”</p>
<p>Andrew chokes on his snow cone.</p>
<p>“Brain freeze?” Neil asks. “Ooh, look! Ring toss.”</p>
<p>“These games are all rigged,” complains Andrew.</p>
<p>“Yup,” agrees Neil easily. “So you’re probably gonna have to drop a lot of money to win me that prize you promised.”</p>
<p>“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”</p>
<p>“That’s odd,” says Neil. “I definitely heard you say that.”</p>
<p>Neil starts heading for the ring toss, but halts. Allison Reynolds is having some kind of discussion near the booth with Dwayne, Seth’s former second-in-command now leader of the PCHers. Neil doesn’t want Andrew to be seen by either of them (they are obviously not his biggest fans right now), so he steers him the opposite direction as Dwayne drops a set of keys into Allison’s waiting palm. Luckily, he and Andrew escape their notice.</p>
<p>They spend the next hour and a half trying and (mostly) failing to beat any of the carnival games and heading in the opposite direction whenever they catch sight of Allison or one of the PCHers. Andrew does manage to win a small prize tossing stuffed frogs onto a moving lily pad: a keychain with a dangling stuffed fox’s head.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” says Neil, immediately taking it and attaching it to his own key ring. “I will treasure it always.”</p>
<p>“It’s mine,” argues Andrew. “You stole it.”</p>
<p>“Are you unfamiliar with the concept of gift giving?” Neil asks, looking up from his keys, directly into the back of a stationary person. He stops short and almost trips. Andrew grabs him by the elbow to steady him, but he still bumps into the back of the person in front of him. Who happens to be Allison Reynolds.</p>
<p>“Watch where you’re going,” she snaps, spinning to glare at him. Her jaw tightens when she spots Andrew. “Making friends with murderers are you?” she asks coldly.</p>
<p>Neil doesn’t want to get into an argument with Seth’s grieving girlfriend about Andrew’s possible innocence, so he takes a step back, holding up his hands in surrender.</p>
<p>“Ally,” interrupts a tiny moppet of a child, with glossy, dark hair and mischievous brown eyes. “I wanna play in the ball pit.”</p>
<p>Neil stops and stares down at the kid pulling on Allison’s sleeve. “You’re here with a child?” he asks incredulously. “Do its parents know?” He can’t imagine Allison willingly getting within five of anyone younger than a teenager. She’s the least maternal person he can think of.</p>
<p>Allison’s glare turns fiercer, as if she can hear the direction of his thoughts. “Yeah, she’s Seth’s cousin,” she practically spits. “He promised to bring her to the carnival, but guess what? He can’t, thanks to your <em>friend</em>.” She spins on her heel, taking up the little girl’s hand. “Come on, Ophelia. Let’s get you a balloon.”</p>
<p>“Well, that went well,” sighs Neil. “Hungry?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” says Andrew predictably, tugging Neil over to get a soft pretzel.</p>
<p>Once they eat, they head back to the games. After their run-in with Allison, Neil pays more attention to how their classmates are reacting to them. He’s long used to being an outcast, but people generally at least pretend to like Andrew, given his wealth and friendship with Kevin. But now, he’s attracting a lot of dark looks and whispers whenever they pass by. Even people who Neil knows hated Seth are looking at Andrew accusingly.</p>
<p>“They’re saying they should have known,” says Andrew, sounding bored, once he realizes what Neil’s paying attention to. “That blood tells. I’m not really one of them; I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”</p>
<p>“Does it bother you?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“I don’t care what they think,” replies Andrew, and that seems to be the end of that. He points towards the skee-ball booth.</p>
<p>Kevin is running it. Neil would be happy to give it a pass, but Andrew heads directly to him.</p>
<p>“Andrew,” says Kevin in surprise when he spots Andrew emerging from the crowd. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He looks up and sees Neil trailing behind him. “...With Neil.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Kevin,” greets Neil. “Can we talk you into giving us a discount?”</p>
<p>Kevin puffs up in affront almost immediately. “If I give special treatment to you, then I’d have to give it to everyone to be fair.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know how much you care about absolute fairness,” snarks Neil. “What do you think?” he asks Andrew. “Can you win me that giant rabbit?”</p>
<p>“Why the hell would you want it?” retorts Andrew.</p>
<p>“To watch me creepily while I’m sleeping, of course,” says Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew shakes his head but hands over enough money to purchase five skee balls and then tries to roll them up the ramp to get prizes.</p>
<p>“So,” says Kevin, drifting over to Neil and clearing his throat. “I haven’t seen you since, uh…” he furrows his brow. Since Neil showed up at his house to demand he recount what happened the night of Janie’s party and they ended up discussing Jean’s murder.</p>
<p>“It’s been a few weeks,” provides Neil tactfully.</p>
<p>“Right,” says Kevin. “Anyway, I was thinking that maybe we should go out to dinner? To talk, I mean. About… stuff.”</p>
<p>“Stuff,” echoes Neil.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” says Kevin, nodding rapidly. “I just think it would be a good idea to—”</p>
<p>“I’m finished,” Andrew cuts him off, stepping between them.</p>
<p>“Okay,” says Kevin. “Do you want to play again or…?”</p>
<p>“No,” says Andrew. “I want another snow cone.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” agrees Neil, looking between Kevin and Andrew in confusion. “See you later, Kevin.”</p>
<p>“Sure, and, uh, I’ll call you about the thing,” says Kevin, before getting distracted by someone else coming to play skee-ball.</p>
<p>Neil watches Andrew out of the corner of his eye as they swerve through the swelling crowd to head back towards the snow cone booth.</p>
<p>“You okay?” he asks.</p>
<p>Andrew nods. “You’re getting back together with Kevin,” he says out of nowhere.</p>
<p>Neil sputters. “The hell?” he demands.</p>
<p>“What other ‘stuff’ do you have to discuss?”</p>
<p>“I highly doubt that’s it,” argues Neil. “We may be on speaking terms again but he got over me and moved on a while ago.”</p>
<p>“Will you say yes?” continues Andrew, seemingly deaf to Neil’s protests. “When he asks?”</p>
<p>“<em>If</em> he asks,” stresses Neil, “and that’s a very big if… I dunno. Probably not.”</p>
<p>Andrew stops and turns to him. “Why not?”</p>
<p>“Cause I think there’s too much shit between us now?” says Neil. “Besides, I’m not interested in being a secret again. Between him and you, I’ve had more than enough of being a rich boy’s disposable play thing.”</p>
<p>Andrew seems struck dumb.</p>
<p>Neil waves away his expression. “Look, all I’m saying is the next person I date isn’t going to be ashamed to be seen with me.”</p>
<p>“You don’t seem like the type to want PDA,” says Andrew, his voice a little strangled.</p>
<p>“I don’t,” agrees Neil. “But I wouldn’t mind holding someone’s hand in public and having them admit I mean something to them.” He starts walking again, leaving Andrew behind. He hurries a couple steps to catch up, but doesn’t say anything more.</p>
<p>They’re still a couple booths away from the snow cones when Neil hears his name being called. He swivels, looking for the source of the noise, when someone barrels into him and drags him into a hug.</p>
<p>“Neil, oh my God, it’s so good to see you! It’s been forever!” Jeremy Knox says enthusiastically, releasing his grip so Neil can breathe. “Hey, Andrew!” he adds.</p>
<p>Jeremy’s accompanied by a couple of his friends, Laila and Sara, who Neil met last fall when he spent the day at Pan High. It feels like a lifetime ago; so much has happened since he was there.</p>
<p>“I’m so glad to finally find you, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” says Jeremy.</p>
<p>“For me?” asks Neil, baffled. Why the hell was Jeremy looking for him? Was this one of those overly-friendly overtures Jeremy kept making?</p>
<p>“Yeah, I need to talk to you,” says Jeremy, his tone turning serious. He glances around them. “Alone.”</p>
<p>Andrew looks between them. “I’ll get my snow cone,” he says, leaving them.</p>
<p>Jeremy takes Neil by the elbow and drags him out of the crush of the crowd, leaving Sara and Laila somewhere behind them. He twitches nervously and his eyes keep darting around nervously, coming across as extremely guilty about something.</p>
<p>“What’s up?” Neil asks, when they’ve reached an appropriately secluded area. He’s interested now, Jeremy’s behaviour strange enough to get his undivided attention.</p>
<p>“Remember last fall, when I told you Jean was investigating something?” Jeremy whispers, barely audibly.</p>
<p>“Yeah…” says Neil leadingly.</p>
<p>“And you asked me to tell you if I remembered anything else?”</p>
<p>“Uh huh.”</p>
<p>“Well, I remembered something he’d said when this whole sad news about that biker came out. Seth, right? I met him last fall, and he just seemed like a really good guy, you know? I’m sure Andrew couldn’t have done it; he’s a little rough around the edges but he’s not a killer.”</p>
<p>Neil wants to grab Jeremy and shake him for stalling, but he controls the impulse. “What did you remember?”</p>
<p>“The news said there’s a witness to the whole thing, a Dr. Proust?”</p>
<p>Neil nods impatiently. While strange for media to report the name of a witness in an ongoing murder case, it’s been presented as Proust being a local hero. Neil assumes he must be getting something from the publicity.</p>
<p>“Well, Jean once told me to stay away from him,” says Jeremy, finally getting to his point.</p>
<p>“Did he say why?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“No,” replies Jeremy. “My GP referred me for a consult, but Jean told me to find a different therapist. He said he had evidence Proust wasn’t a good person.”</p>
<p>“He had evidence?” Neil repeats. That was certainly a possibility. Maybe Jean had come across evidence of the Moriyama family’s criminal dealings. If so, he could have discovered Proust’s connection to the Ravens.</p>
<p>Jeremy is watching him nervously, wringing his hands together. “Is that helpful?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Maybe,” says Neil distractedly, his mind still whirring. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>Jeremy smiles wanly. “Okay, well, good.”</p>
<p>“Anything else?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“Nope!” says Jeremy, now cheerful again. “I’ll let you get back to your date.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s not…” Neil starts, before trailing off. It really doesn’t matter what Jeremy thinks and it’s not worth the argument. “Thanks,” he says again, wandering back towards the snow cones as Jeremy heads in the opposite direction.</p>
<p>If Jean collected evidence against Proust, it could potentially help exonerate Andrew. Either it will show Proust in a bad light, or he can be blackmailed with the information to make him recant his testimony. However, the evidence Jean collected must be long gone by now. The Moriyamas would never let it lie around once it was discovered Jean had it. But, thinks Neil, stopping in his tracks, if Jean <em>wasn’t</em> killed because of his investigation, if it was Kevin who killed him…</p>
<p>He feels as if a gong has gone off in his brain. Why did he never realize—his thoughts are abruptly interrupted as he’s shoved by a naked guy in a ski mask. He stumbles to get out of the guy’s way, as he and a group of other similarly-dressed (or undressed as the case may be) people streak past him, drawing hoots and hollers from bypassers. More than one irate teacher chaperone chases after them.</p>
<p>Neil shrugs, nonplussed, and makes his way back to the snow cone booth, where Andrew is cocking his head in contemplation at the bare asses belonging to the streakers as they disappear amid shrieks farther in the crowd. Neil raises an amused eyebrow at him.</p>
<p>“What?” asks Andrew. “Free show.”</p>
<p>“You recognize any of them?” teases Neil.</p>
<p>“I’d need a closer look.”</p>
<p>Neil scoffs and shakes his head.</p>
<p>“So did Knox finish declaring his undying love to you?” asks Andrew. He’s staring into his snow cone as if it’s something far more interesting than sugar-flavoured crushed ice.</p>
<p>“He did,” replies Neil. “We’re going to meet up later to hook up.”</p>
<p>Andrew looks up at him sharply.</p>
<p>“I can’t very well be the school bicycle if I don’t get taken for a ride regularly,” says Neil with false sweetness.</p>
<p>“That’s not what I meant.”</p>
<p>“What did you mean?”</p>
<p>Andrew looks away evasively. “Just that I’ve always gotten a vibe from him,” he mutters. “He’s a disgustingly nice guy; he’d be good to you.” He fiddles with the paper snow cone holder, tearing the edges.</p>
<p>“Who said I liked nice guys?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>Andrew looks up at him again, meeting his gaze steadily. Neil’s heart is beating wildly; he doesn’t know exactly what’s happening, but the way Andrew’s looking at him…</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” says Ms Murphy, the journalism teacher, pushing between them.</p>
<p>Neil steps back hastily and pulls out his phone to check for nonexistent texts. <em>Stupid</em>, he admonishes himself. He promised himself he wasn’t going to get pulled back into the same bullshit with Andrew.</p>
<p>Ms Murphy leans over the edge of the snow cone booth. “The money box, please, Mr Boyd,” she says impatiently.</p>
<p>“Sure thing,” says Matt, wiping his hands on his apron. He leans down and opens a cupboard door. “Um,” he says, looking up. “It’s not here.”</p>
<p>“What?” demands Ms Murphy. “I handed it to you for safekeeping while I went after those troublemakers!”</p>
<p>“I know,” says Matt desperately. “I put it in here and no one’s come close since I did.”</p>
<p>“Of all the irresponsible—” starts Ms Murphy.</p>
<p>“Hey,” says Neil, getting her attention. He takes a step forward to the other side of the table from Matt, pointing down at a sliding panel. “That shelf opens from this side, too.”</p>
<p>Ms Murphy crouches down and slides open the panel, looking through the cabinet to Matt’s worried face on the other side. “Anyone could have taken the cash box,” she says faintly. “That’s all the money we’ve collected today.”</p>
<p>“Surely it can’t be that much—” starts Neil.</p>
<p>“It’s over six thousand dollars,” Ms Murphy says numbly.</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Neil, feeling dumbfounded. “That’s not great.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I should have known you’d be wrapped up in this somehow,” says Vice Principal Whittier, when he spots Neil.</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m not a suspect,” says Neil. “I simply offer my skills at a low, low price.”</p>
<p>“How about free?” Mr. Whittier suggests dryly.</p>
<p>“You drive a hard bargain, but I’ll have to accept,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“I don’t know why we’re even here anyway,” interjects Allison Reynolds snottily. “We all know who the criminal is here.” She levels a poisonous glare at Andrew.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t follow at all,” argues Neil. “Andrew’s loaded. Besides, murder and theft are very different things.”</p>
<p>Andrew jabs him in the ribs. “I doubt you’re helping as much as you think you are.”</p>
<p>“Is he loaded?” retorts Allison. “He hasn’t hired any competent lawyers. Maybe the Spears realized their mistake in adopting him. He was a petty thief before that, wasn’t he? Blood always tells.”</p>
<p>“Out of the two of us, which one has been caught committing credit card fraud?” asks Andrew.</p>
<p>“You’re trying to shift the blame onto me?” demands Allison, shrilly.</p>
<p>“Where’s your little mini-person?” asks Neil, cutting in. “You didn’t abandon her, did you?”</p>
<p>“She’s in the ball pit,” snaps Allison. “Since she’s a kid, I figured she could miss out on whatever this farce is.”</p>
<p>“We’ve called you all here because you were around the snow cone booth at the time of the incident,” says Ms Murphy. Along with Allison, Neil, Andrew, Dan, and Matt, Carly Lakes has been called into the locked school.</p>
<p>“It was probably her,” says Carly, indicating Dan. “We all know she’s poor and she was lurking around.”</p>
<p>“By ‘lurking’ do you mean ‘standing while black’?” deadpans Dan.</p>
<p>Carly opens her mouth to respond, but Mr. Whittier cuts her off. “We’re not pointing any fingers yet,” he says. “And given Ms Wilds’ efforts in putting together this event, I hardly think she would jeopardize it.” He gestures to the classroom’s television, where a video camera has been hooked up. “Luckily, we have video,” he says. “The yearbook staff has been taping all day for the video yearbook.” He fiddles with the camera for several moments before it starts playing.</p>
<p>Neil watches closely. He sees Andrew enter the shot and talk to Matt; while Matt is getting Andrew’s snow cone, Allison and her balloon-wielding charge show up, momentarily blocking the sight of the booth. Carly lines up behind her. Then Dan and Ms Murphy enter the picture, in discussion as they approach the booth, Ms Murphy carrying the cash box. Shouts and jeers echo through the screen and the camera moves around wildly as the streakers run through the picture. The camera view tilts wildly, losing track of the snow cone booth. Mr. Whittier stops the recording.</p>
<p>“You five were on the scene when Ms Murphy handed over the lock box to Mr Boyd,” he says. “We’re going to search your lockers and ask you to turn out your pockets.”</p>
<p>“It’s a metal box,” says Allison. “It’s about the size of a shoebox and it’s locked. Where, exactly, do you think I’m hiding it?” She gestures at her form-fitting outfit.</p>
<p>“Plus, if you find any money in my locker, who’s to say it’s not mine?” asks Carly.</p>
<p>“This morning I paid for a pretzel using a five dollar bill that had the name Nancy and a phone number written on it,” offers Neil. Andrew side-eyes him. “Since all the money you’ve collected so far was in the box, its presence would prove it was the carnival money.”</p>
<p>“There we go,” says Mr. Whittier, gesturing at him. “We’ll look in your lockers now.”</p>
<p>Allison demands they look in hers first so she can return to her babysitting duties. Unsurprisingly, the locker search turns up fruitless. The money could be anywhere.</p>
<p>“I’ll bet it’s gone forever,” laments Dan, as she, Matt, Neil, and Andrew head back out of the school.</p>
<p>“Maybe not yet,” says Neil. “The box was locked. Whoever took it would still have to get into it without attracting any attention.”</p>
<p>“The bolt cutters Mr. Whittier keeps in his office for locker inspections would be useful with that,” says Matt.</p>
<p>Dan starts shaking her head. “I already asked about that. Both his office and the auto shop are locked up tight. No one has any access.”</p>
<p>“Except for anyone with a key,” says Neil, looking at Matt.</p>
<p>“Not to his private office,” answers Matt. “Although the janitors might have master keys or something.”</p>
<p>“Getting into auto shop is easy,” pipes up Andrew, who hasn’t said a word since before they watched the video. “Everyone makes a copy of Mr. Hernandez’s key at the beginning of the semester while he looks the other way.”</p>
<p>“I always forget you take auto shop,” says Neil. “It’s not a very 09er thing to do.”</p>
<p>“I like cars,” Andrew replies.</p>
<p>“So anyone who has taken or is currently taking auto shop could potentially get at the tools in there?” asks Dan. “Is there anything in there that could open a lock box?”</p>
<p>“Plenty,” says Andrew.</p>
<p>Dan shares a look with Neil and then turns and rushes off to tell Mr. Whittier.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Neil finagles his way into searching the auto shop with Mr. Whittier and Mr. Hernandez. Nothing seems disturbed and there is a row of lockers along the back wall; secondary lockers where the students can keep their coveralls and stash their backpacks during class.</p>
<p>“That one’s already open,” says Neil, pointing to a locker without a lock.</p>
<p>“Oh, I emptied that one recently,” says Mr. Hernandez shiftily. “It was Seth Gordon’s,” he mutters to Mr. Whittier in an undertone.</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier grimaces. “I’ll check this half; you take care of the others.” He begins to wield his bolt cutters to snap the locks off the row of lockers.</p>
<p>Mr. Hernandez gets his own set of bolt cutters from an unlocked cabinet behind his desk.</p>
<p>Neil trails after him. “You emptied Seth’s locker?” he asks. “What was in it?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be morbid,” chides Mr. Hernandez.</p>
<p>“I’m not,” protests Neil. “It’s just… we were friends, kind of. And his death was so sudden. I only wanted to know if he left anything behind to remember him by.”</p>
<p>Mr. Hernandez softens. “It’s been hard,” he agrees. “But there’s not always reason to be found in these senseless deaths. Especially not in the junk he kept in his locker.”</p>
<p>“Nothing interesting?” Neil presses.</p>
<p>“There was about seventeen cents, a condom, and a pen,” shrugs Mr. Hernandez. “Sorry. Nothing worth keeping, although the pen was strange.”</p>
<p>“Strange how?”</p>
<p>“It was bulky and pink,” explains Mr. Hernandez. “Nothing like I expected from him. I have it in the cup on my desk, if you want to take a look.”</p>
<p>Neil heads over to check it out, and sure enough there is a thick, plastic, pink pen in the cup holder on Mr. Hernandez’s desk. He hasn’t seen anything like it since middle school, when similar pens were all the rage, mostly among the girls. Why was Seth, who was so obsessed with his bad boy biker aesthetic, in possession of this? Is it Allison’s, maybe? Although it seems far too tacky for her.</p>
<p>Neil pockets the pen, just in case, and moves to rejoin the locker search but trips over a garbage can that’s slightly out of place. He catches his balance before he can hit the ground, but the contents of the bin spill onto the floor. Grumbling, he bends down to clean up, pausing momentarily when he comes across a lock that’s been cut with bolt cutters. There’s also clamshell plastic packaging for a brand new lock, complete with a sticker showing the combination.</p>
<p>Neil’s still puzzling over the garbage when Mr. Whittier says, “Aha!” triumphantly, lifting a wad of bills out of one of the lockers.</p>
<p>“That can’t be nearly enough,” says Mr. Hernandez. “That only looks like a couple hundred bucks.”</p>
<p>“But this bill has the name Nancy and a phone number written on it,” Mr. Whittier points out. Neil does a double take. “Therefore, we know this must be the carnival money. The rest can be found with the thief, I’ll bet.”</p>
<p>“Whose locker is it?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“That’s Andrew Spear’s locker,” says Mr. Hernandez, slumping with disappointment.</p>
<p>“Why would he stash only a small portion of the money here?” says Neil. “It doesn’t make any sense. Besides, when did he have the time to do it? I’ve been with him ever since the theft was noticed.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re an accomplice,” says Mr. Whittier.</p>
<p>“You don’t honestly believe that,” says Neil.</p>
<p>“Well, no,” admits Mr. Whittier. “But the evidence is clear. Mr. Spear is the culprit.” He turns and leaves the room, heading back out of the auto shop.</p>
<p>“The evidence is planted,” Neil argues, trotting along beside him. “I made up the thing about the name on the money.”</p>
<p>“What?” demands Mr. Whittier, coming to a halt.</p>
<p>“I made it up,” Neil repeats. “Someone is framing Andrew and the only people who knew about the Nancy five dollar bill were the ones you gathered to watch the video.”</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier looks pained. “That may be, but I still have to hand this evidence over to the sheriff.” He resumes heading towards the quad.</p>
<p>“You called the sheriff?”</p>
<p>“There was a major theft,” Mr. Whittier reminds him. “Of course I called law enforcement.”</p>
<p>“But they’re incompetent and clearly have it out for Andrew,” argues Neil. “You can’t tell them he stole the money.”</p>
<p>“It’s out of my hands,” says Mr. Whittier.</p>
<p>“It’s really not,” grumbles Neil as they reach the front doors of the school. Sure enough, an official sheriff’s department car is parked outside, with two deputies milling around it.</p>
<p>A small crowd has gathered, mostly made up of rubberneckers coming to see what the sheriff’s doing here. Neil sees a lot of familiar faces, including all the students Mr. Whittier gathered earlier; Andrew is staring off into the distance as Kevin, obviously on a break from his carnival duties, talks earnestly at him.</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier heads over to talk to Deputy Towns while Neil makes a beeline for Andrew.</p>
<p>“Find the money?” asks Andrew.</p>
<p>“Yeah; in your locker,” Neil tells him.</p>
<p>Andrew looks over to where Deputy Towns is looking back at him and unhooking his handcuffs from his utility belt.</p>
<p>“I know it wasn’t you,” Neil says.</p>
<p>“Two arrests in less than a month is a lot, even for me,” says Andrew wryly.</p>
<p>“Should I take a picture and make it my phone wallpaper?” Neil asks.</p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Kevin glances back and forth between them in confusion, but neither of them pay him any attention.</p>
<p>Andrew takes a step closer to Neil as Towns heads in their direction. “This is me asking,” he says, and kisses Neil in front of everyone.</p>
<p>It’s a short, declarative kiss; Andrew pulls back with a neutral expression, although his eyes search Neil’s. Neil knows there must be shouts and catcalls but he can’t hear anything beyond the thumping of his own heart.</p>
<p>“Why…?” he asks stupidly.</p>
<p>“Yes or no?” replies Andrew.</p>
<p>Before Neil can come up with a response, Towns is there. “Are you going to come quietly or am I going to have to cuff you?” he asks Andrew.</p>
<p>Andrew gives Neil one last intense look, before turning and heading to the patrol vehicle, amid hushed and not-so-hushed whispers. Neil feels like he’s been clubbed across the head with a lead pipe. Kevin gapes at him for a couple moments before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.</p>
<p>“Oh my God, Neil,” says Matt, rushing up and grabbing him. “What the hell?”</p>
<p>“I don’t…” starts Neil, catching sight of Allison watching Andrew get loaded into the cop car with a smug and triumphant look on her face. “Of course,” he says, mostly to himself. He’s annoyed it took him this long; it’s stupidly obvious. He detaches himself from Matt and heads over to cut Mr. Whittier off from returning to the school. “The ball pit,” he says in a low voice. “Empty the ball pit.”</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier seems ready to shake him off, but Neil steps directly in his path. “The lockbox is in there,” Neil insists.</p>
<p>Mr. Whittier sighs, and points to Matt and Dan who are a couple steps behind Neil. “You two,” he commands. “Help me.”</p>
<p>The three of them head off and Neil confronts Allison.</p>
<p>“So you figured it out,” she drawls, pretending to examine her nails.</p>
<p>“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Not fast enough to save your boo,” she taunts. “Him being involved in crime is in violation of one of his bail conditions, you know.”</p>
<p>“You stole thousands of dollars to get Andrew thrown back in jail?”</p>
<p>“Can you prove it?”</p>
<p>“Step by step?” asks Neil. “I’m guessing the streakers were the PCHers?” he starts. “You must have given them some kind of signal when Ms. Murphy brought over the lockbox to somewhere Andrew could conceivably steal it. You were hovering near us all morning.”</p>
<p>“They want Spear in jail as much as I do. It wasn’t hard to convince them to help.”</p>
<p>“You then hid the money in Andrew’s auto shop locker by using Seth’s keys you got from Dwayne earlier. You cut off his lock and put on a new one,” Neil says. “You figured no one would ever notice the switch once they cut off the second lock.”</p>
<p>“I had to break back in to add the name and number to the money,” admits Allison. “That really threw me for a loop.”</p>
<p>“It was a trap,” Neil tells her.</p>
<p>“You are too wily for your own good,” says Allison.</p>
<p>“I do keep catching you stealing money.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t planning on keeping it. If you didn’t figure it out, Ophelia would have miraculously ‘found’ the box I had her hide in the ball pit,” shrugs Allison. “The money would have found its way back one way or another.”</p>
<p>“Does it feel good involving a child in theft?” asks Neil.</p>
<p>“She loved Seth,” says Allison, choking up as she says his name. “Now he’s not here and the person responsible for that is just walking around like he doesn’t care?”</p>
<p>“Andrew didn’t kill Seth,” says Neil heatedly.</p>
<p>Allison raises a hand to slap him, quick as a snake, and Neil flinches away but she doesn’t make contact. Neil opens his eyes to find Renee holding Allison’s arm back. He has no idea when she got here.</p>
<p>“Slapping isn’t the answer,” she says serenely.</p>
<p>“He’s lying,” hisses Allison.</p>
<p>“It would be easy, wouldn’t it?” says Neil. “To believe that Andrew did this. Because then you might get some closure. But you know, deep down, he didn’t. Seth came to me the day he died because he had something to show me, something that would ‘bring the place down’. You know about that, don’t you? That’s why you really wanted the keys to the auto shop, isn’t it? To get a look in his locker?”</p>
<p>“It was already empty,” says Allison, slumping in defeat.</p>
<p>“Not quite,” says Neil, taking the pink pen from his pocket.</p>
<p>Allison blanches and reaches for it; Neil takes a step back out of her reach. “Not until you explain,” he says.</p>
<p>“It’s my pen,” she protests.</p>
<p>“Possession is nine-tenths of ownership,” retorts Neil.</p>
<p>“That’s not even remotely true,” says Renee.</p>
<p>“Finders keepers?” tries Neil.</p>
<p>“Fine,” snaps Allison. “It’s a spy pen.”</p>
<p>“A spy pen?” repeats Neil dubiously.</p>
<p>“I found it in my cereal box.”</p>
<p>“Oh, so it’s a <em>legitimate</em> spy pen.”</p>
<p>“It was around the time Seth and I started hooking up,” explains Allison. “I thought it would be funny; like, sending my secret lover secret messages? Even after we went public, we kept it up. Kind of as an inside joke, you know?”</p>
<p>Neil catches on. “You think there’s a message in here for you?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” says Allison, holding out her hand. “Hopefully.”</p>
<p>Neil drops the pen into her hand and he and Renee watch expectantly as she twists the top of it and a thin strip of paper is spit out.</p>
<p>“PFNB SDB 766,” Allison reads slowly. “What the hell?”</p>
<p>Neil snatches up the paper. “I think I know what this means,” he says slowly. “Allison, do you still have Seth’s keys?”</p>
<p>She fishes a heavy and very full keyring from her purse and Neil flips through them until he finds what he’s looking for. A squat, heavy key with PFNB stamped on its rectangular tab.</p>
<p>“This is a safety deposit box key,” explains Neil. “I think Seth left some evidence behind after all.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're getting there! Warnings for this chapter include: discussion of murder, references to suicide, blackmail, referenced violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil sits on a couch in the opulent lobby of Palmetto First National Bank and tries not to fidget impatiently. He’s failing, based on the irritated looks Allison keeps throwing him. She’s also worked up, but Renee is keeping her settled with a calming hand on her arm every time it appears that she’s going to get up and start pacing. Or shout at a bank teller.</p><p>Neil’s using the same method he previously used to access his mother’s safety deposit box—death certificate plus ID identifying a family member—although this time it’s the death certificate that’s real and the family connection that’s fabricated. Since neither Neil, Allison, or Renee can easily pass for being related to Seth, Renee had the idea to ask Katelyn to help them. However, Dwayne, Seth’s replacement as leader of the PCHers, cornered Allison to demand what she’d found during her carnival caper and then insisted on sending one of his boys to keep an eye on what they’re doing. As a result, Neil made fake IDs for both Katelyn and her older brother Reggie, identifying them as Seth’s siblings.</p><p>According to the clock on the wall, Katelyn and Reggie have only been out of sight for less than five minutes, although it feels like an eternity to Neil. Seth’s evidence has the potential to exonerate Andrew, who spent the weekend in the sheriff department’s lockup as his bail conditions were renegotiated after Mr Whittier refused to press charges on behalf of the school board (given that Andrew clearly wasn’t responsible for the theft of the money after it was found in the ball pit).</p><p>Andrew’s back at home now, but his movements are even more restricted. In addition to his ankle monitor keeping him in town, he’s only allowed to be either at his house or at school. He’s not allowed to drive himself anyway, so his father (or a member of his father’s staff) has to ferry him back and forth between each locale. Neil expects that he’s feeling trapped and restless, but he doesn’t know for sure as he learned about the conditions in a phone call from George Waterhouse, who’s still acting as Andrew’s attorney. He hasn’t called Andrew, not sure yet what to say to him after their very public kiss, and Andrew hasn’t reached out to him either.</p><p>“How long does it take to open a fucking box?” mutters Allison, manicured nails tapping the arm of her couch impatiently.</p><p>“I’m sure they’re being as fast as possible,” soothes Renee.</p><p>“Or Reggie is stealing everything to take back to the PCHers so they can mete out their own justice,” gripes Allison.</p><p>“That is a possibility,” says Renee.</p><p>“That’s not comforting,” complains Neil.</p><p>“The truth often isn’t,” replies Renee.</p><p>There isn’t enough time to worry about it, as Katelyn and Reggie reappear and head over to the couches where the three of them are waiting.</p><p>“Well?” snaps Allison, her patience frayed.</p><p>“The only thing in the box was a tape,” says Katelyn, handing over a small tape, the kind used in handheld recording devices.</p><p>“That’s it? No letter?” Allison is holding herself tightly, with clear disappointment on her face.</p><p>“Sorry,” apologizes Katelyn. “That’s all there was.”</p><p>“My mother has equipment that can play this,” says Renee, examining the tape. “She has a whole AV setup in the basement.”</p><p>“Then let’s go,” says Allison stomping away, her heels clicking across the marble floors of the bank.</p><p>Katelyn begs off, but Reggie follows Neil to Renee’s house, his motorcycle rumbling menacingly as he trails Neil’s car through the streets.</p><p>Luckily, Renee’s mother doesn’t seem to be home, as Neil isn’t sure what she’d make of their little procession: Allison’s pink Porsche convertible, followed by Neil’s falling apart Chrystler, followed by a motorcycle with grim reaper artwork all over it. Renee herself doesn’t seem fussed, politely letting them into her house and offering them refreshments. They all decline, getting even antsier as they get closer to finding out what Seth left for them.</p><p>Renee leads the way to her finished basement. The setup is impressive—as expected from a television news reporter, even though Stephanie Walker has been working as an anchor instead of an investigator for years now. Renee seems to know her way around the equipment—Neil recalls that she is the producer for Palmetto High’s news station—and it’s not long before the tape from the safety deposit box is queued up and ready.</p><p>Neil isn’t sure exactly what he was expecting to be on the video, but it certainly wasn’t a bunch of pre-teens fucking around on skateboards. It shows a group of five or six boys trying, and mostly failing, to pull stunts. Neil recognizes the skate park from downtown, the buildings in the background familiar.</p><p>“The fuck?” mutters Allison. “Who the hell are they?”</p><p>“Wait, I recognize him,” says Neil, pointing at the mouthiest of the kids on the video. The boys are spending a lot of time shit talking each other.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s Jack,” says Reggie. “Little fucker.”</p><p>“I caught him mugging pizza boys last fall,” says Neil. “Why the hell would Seth have a video of him?”</p><p>Reggie shrugs. “After you foisted him off on Seth, he kept hanging around us, begging to be let into the gang.”</p><p>“Is this blackmail or something?” muses Neil. “To keep him out?”</p><p>“Don’t see how it could be,” says Reggie. “He seems proud of himself more than anything.”</p><p>They watch silently as Jack faceplants and comes up laughing.</p><p>“How did Seth eventually get him to piss off?” Neil asks.</p><p>“He didn’t,” says Reggie. “Asshole kept trying to worm his way in and Seth eventually gave in. I guess it did Jack some good; he’s better at holding his tongue now. Less likely to get punched.”</p><p>“Seth let an eleven year old into the PCH?” asks Neil incredulously.</p><p>“I think he’s thirteen,” muses Reggie.</p><p>“Oh, much better,” snarks Neil.</p><p>Reggie shrugs. “My view is that it was to save him from himself more than anything,” he explains. “He started mouthing off about having caught a murderer on tape, and Seth figured he was going to get himself killed talking like that.” He looks fondly exasperated. “Seth had a stupid soft spot for tiny troublemakers.”</p><p>Neil lets himself feel sad for his sort-of friend for a moment before something Reggie said catches his attention. He swivels his attention back to the video. “A murderer caught on tape?” he echoes.</p><p>“Oh,” says Reggie, realizing the implication.</p><p>They watch in anticipation, all of them scouring the screen, waiting for something interesting to happen. Neil ignores what’s going on in the foreground, scanning the background for anything out of the ordinary.</p><p>“Stop!” he says, squinting at a blurry shape. “There, what’s that?”</p><p>‘That’ is a dark figure emerging into the side alley of one of the buildings in the distance. Renee slows the tape to a crawl and they watch as the figure takes a couple steps towards the camera and looks around furtively, patting his coat as if making sure his wallet—or something else valuable—was safely stowed in an inner pocket.</p><p>Neil gasps. “That’s Jean,” he says.</p><p>“Are you sure?” asks Renee keenly.</p><p>“I recognize the way he moves, and that’s definitely his coat,” he replies. “Wait, what’s the timestamp?”</p><p>Renee pauses the playback and presses a few buttons to bring up the video metadata. It states it was recorded on February 14, 2004, 4:14 pm. Neil and Renee exchange glances. It’s the day Jean was murdered. Based on Neil’s revised timeline, the Jean in the video has less than an hour to live. Neil wants to reach out to him, to protect him from what happens next, but he’s powerless to change it.</p><p>Renee plays the tape again at half speed, and they watch Jean’s shadowed figure hurry toward the back of the building. As he rounds the corner, the sun hits his face and he’s unmistakably recognizable. Just then, another person with their back to the camera walks into frame, practically running into Jean. They stop and stare at each other before the new figure pushes against Jean and they exchange a few words; then Jean rushes off. The figure heads partway down the same alleyway Jean emerged from and then turns, showing his face clearly to the camera, to follow after Jean.</p><p>“That’s Riko Moriyama,” says Allison.</p><p>“Yes, it is,” says Neil, feeling faint. He steadies himself on the back of a chair to keep from collapsing.</p><p>“What is it?” demands Allison.</p><p>“The day Jean was murdered,” starts Neil, before having to pause. He doesn’t feel like he’s inhabiting his body anymore. He clears his throat and tries again, “Riko had an alibi; he was out of the county, with two eyewitnesses.”</p><p>“But he’s right there,” says Allison, pointing.</p><p>“This video proves he was in town,” says Renee quietly. “It contradicts his alibi.”</p><p>“Why would that matter unless…” Allison trails off, inhaling sharply.</p><p>“That’s the smoke shop on Ocean, isn’t it?” asks Neil, thinking back to how he had lost track of Proust. Jean must have been looking into the Moriyamas’ criminal dealings, just like Jeremy thought. “The fastest way to the Day-Moriyama mansion from there is along Perimeter Road.” Which would explain the red light ticket Jean got, glancing over his shoulder as if worried about pursuit. He was speeding home with whatever evidence he’d found, worried about his encounter with Riko.</p><p>It’s like Neil’s seeing into the past. He can visualize what must have happened running through his brain like a film strip. Jean rushes home, Riko follows him. Jean’s expecting Riko to come, so he stashes the evidence and pretends to lounge by the pool, aiming for casual. They have a confrontation—maybe Jean threatens to expose the Moriyamas’ dealings with the Ravens—and Riko loses his infamously short temper and grabs whatever’s close at hand to hit Jean with. Afterwards, Riko runs like a coward, probably back to his father to make sure he won’t face any consequences.</p><p>Riko must have paid off his friends to lie about his whereabouts; he’d supposedly been in Tijuana with Ricky Williams and another one of his lackeys.</p><p>Neil wonders if Tetsuji knows who actually killed his son, if there’s been any communication between the two halves of the Moriyama family. Or maybe, with the evidence at hand, he thinks it was Kevin, just like Neil did. Neil can easily imagine it; Kevin gets home from his lacrosse game and finds Jean’s lifeless body, and the intense emotions trigger one of his episodes. Then Tetsuji arrives, and upon seeing Kevin completely insensate, cradling his brother’s bloody body, he jumps to conclusions and sets a cover up into motion to protect Kevin.</p><p>“Riko killed Jean,” concludes Neil numbly. “Why else would he bother to fake his alibi? But Seth had proof his alibi wasn’t real.”</p><p>“Idiot,” snaps Allison, expression fierce. “He was probably blackmailing him, making digs he knew what Riko did, thinking he was invincible.”</p><p>Neil turns to Reggie, whose expression is quickly approaching murderous as they speak. “What happened the night Seth died?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Reggie answers angrily, kicking the wall. “I wasn’t there.”</p><p>“Were any PCHers there?” asks Neil, remembering how Andrew wasn’t able to identify any of the people he’d fought with until they’d stumbled into a Ravens bar.</p><p>Reggie shakes his head. “He had a couple with him when the Ravens cornered him on the bridge, but he sent them to get the rest of us for backup. We were too late; cops were already swarming all over the area when we got there.”</p><p>“It’s an odd place for him to be cornered, isn’t it?” asks Renee. “There wasn’t anything preventing him from driving away. It’s a bridge, not a dead end.”</p><p>“Because that fool decided to confront Riko face to face, didn’t he?” says Allison hotly. “Threatening him, or rubbing it in his face?”</p><p>“He said he had a meeting with the Ravens to make sure they stayed off our turf,” says Reggie.</p><p>“Idiot,” huffs Allison again, although her anger is leaving her. She looks washed out and sad again.</p><p>Renee glances between them. “This isn’t hard evidence,” she says, sounding apologetic. “Without anything more, Riko’ll never be convicted of killing Seth.”</p><p>Reggie cracks his knuckles. “We don’t need more to mete out justice.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid,” snaps Neil. “Taking on the Riko and the Ravens is what got Seth killed in the first place.”</p><p>“You expect us to do nothing?” demands Reggie. “This calls for retaliation.”</p><p>“And then they’ll retaliate against you, and you’ll retaliate for their retaliation and you’ll all end up dead,” says Allison scathingly. “And even then the Moriyamas will still be as powerful as ever; a gang war isn’t going to touch them.”</p><p>“If only we had whatever Jean was hiding,” says Neil forlornly, before freezing completely, the realization he had just before the PCHers went streaking at the carnival coming back to him. “Oh.”</p><p>“Neil?” asks Renee, concern written on her face.</p><p>“I’ve been overlooking something important,” says Neil slowly. “I assumed at first that Jean had been killed because of his investigation, meaning someone found out about it.”</p><p>“Investigation?” asks Allison.</p><p>“I think he was looking into his family’s associations with the Ravens,” explains Neil.</p><p>Renee looks thoughtfully back at the paused screen. “Isn’t that true, though?”</p><p>“Right, but I thought he’d been found with the evidence he’d collected and it had obviously been confiscated and destroyed, but what if it wasn’t?” His heart beats wildly as he thinks it through. “If he was killed by Kevin or by Riko in a fit of temper, they wouldn’t know where he was hiding everything.”</p><p>“Wait, what do you mean Kevin?” demands Allison. “There’s a chance Kevin killed him?”</p><p>Neil waves her off, his own thoughts running a million miles an hour. “It might still be hidden,” he says. “Actual evidence against the Moriyama family.”</p><p>“Do you have a guess where he would have hidden it?” asks Renee, her eyes shining with something like anticipation. Neil wonders why she cares so much until he remembers that she and Jean were close friends.</p><p>A memory hits Neil, of Jean dragging his desk chair against the wall of his room and letting Neil in on a secret. He climbed on the chair and then held a finger to his lips as he took a screwdriver to the air conditioning vent cover near the ceiling of his room; he’d hidden anything he didn’t want his father or the cleaning staff to find: alcohol, personal letters, porn.</p><p>“I have a good idea,” says Neil.</p>
<hr/><p>When he leaves Renee’s house, it’s getting late. Neil feels wrung out from the revelations of the afternoon.</p><p>Reggie promises to give Neil two weeks to try it “his” way before he and the other PCHers take their pound of flesh. Neil has a nascent plan blooming in his mind, but he wants nothing more than to drive over to Kevin’s house and demand entry. It takes all his self-control to stop himself, instead driving to a different mansion in the 09 zip.</p><p>Richard Spear himself answers the door, blinking in confusion at Neil.</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil, somehow surprised to see the man in his own house. “I’m here for—”</p><p>“Andrew!” calls Richard, half-turning back into the house. “Neil’s here!”</p><p>They stand in awkward silence as they wait; Richard’s never been around much, or involved in Andrew’s life. As far as Neil’s observed, they treat each other like vague acquaintances even inside their own home. But with Cass still away to stay near Drake, he and Andrew are the only two living here at the moment.</p><p>Andrew shuffles into sight, his expression slightly apprehensive. “Neil?” he asks, sounding hesitant.</p><p>“I’ll make you boys some snacks,” declares Richard, and makes a hasty exit.</p><p>Neil and Andrew stare at each other for a couple beats.</p><p>“You weren’t at school today,” Neil points out, breaking their awkward silence.</p><p>“My bail conditions weren’t finalized until this morning,” says Andrew, scuffing his toe into the floor in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”</p><p>“Get ready for a lot of nosy questions,” warns Neil. “Gossip spreads like wildfire and I’m pretty sure every single person now knows you were arrested again and that you kissed me.”</p><p>Neil watches for a reaction, but Andrew remains frustratingly opaque. “Was it bad for you? The gossip, I mean.”</p><p>“Eh,” Neil shrugs, “it’s not like my reputation could sink any lower. I think most people are wondering what the hell was going through your mind; the general consensus is that you’ve either hit rock bottom or made a mistake.”</p><p>“I didn’t,” says Andrew, taking a step forward to crowd into Neil’s space.</p><p>Neil doesn’t give any ground. “You’re sure?” he asks, his voice hoarse as his pulse beats wildly.</p><p>“I’m sure,” says Andrew. He fists the front of Neil’s t-shirt. “I asked you, didn’t I? You still haven’t given me an answer.”</p><p>There’s only one answer Neil can give; despite everything that’s happened, despite knowing this is probably a bad idea, despite knowing it may end badly, all he can do is say, “Yes.” He willingly leans into a possessive kiss. It’s both familiar and not, since for the first time Neil lets himself feel the things he’s been pushing away.</p><p>They continue kissing until Andrew’s father returns to let them know snacks are available in the kitchen, at which point they spring apart in the most suspicious way possible. Richard glances between them and clears his throat.</p><p>“A first boyfriend is a big step,” he starts stiltedly.</p><p>“Dad, stop,” Andrew cuts in instantly.</p><p>“It’s important to protect yourselves,” Richard soldiers on. “Don’t forget to use condoms.”</p><p>Andrew looks horrified and his face is slowly turning beet red.</p><p>“I’m going to be in the den if you have any questions,” concludes Richard.</p><p>“We won’t,” says Andrew, still looking like he’d appreciate melting through the floor. He grasps Neil by the wrist and drags him farther into the house.</p><p>“STDs are no joke!” Richard calls after them, apparently over his awkwardness and heading straight into trolling them. “Despite what it sounds like, chlamydia is not a flower.”</p><p>“Can’t believe he decided <em>now</em> was the best time to start parenting,” Andrew mutters.</p><p>Neil shakes his head mockingly. “In front of your very first boyfriend.” He tests out the word cautiously, not realizing how much he wanted to be called that before Richard had uttered it.</p><p>Andrew makes a face like he smelled something pungent. “It’s a stupid word,” he says. “It sounds so juvenile...but it’s what you are.” His voice goes up at the end, like he’s asking a question.</p><p>“Is that not what you wanted?” asks Neil, suddenly worried that he and Andrew weren’t on the same page after all.</p><p>“You’re not nothing; you’ve never been nothing,” returns Andrew quickly, in reassurance. “But it feels weird to think of you as. That.”</p><p>He leads Neil into the kitchen, where there’s actually a fairly substantial spread of food laid out. Neil has no idea why the Spears even have this much snack food in the house with only two inhabitants or how Richard put it together so quickly. Sometimes dating the uber rich is like peeking into an alien world.</p><p>“That,” echoes Neil. “Can you even say it?” he teases.</p><p>Andrew’s expression is mulish. “...Boyfriend,” he says stubbornly, and immediately ruins it by grimacing again. “I’ll get used to it eventually.”</p><p>Neil rolls his eyes and heads over to a tray of veggies, grabbing a carrot stick and swiping it through some kind of creamy dip. “To be fair, when Kevin and I got together it did take a while to stop sounding weird,” he admits.</p><p>Andrew makes another face at the reference to Kevin.</p><p>“Have you heard from Kevin since the carnival?” asks Neil, suddenly remembering Kevin was witness to their kiss. He wasn’t in class today either as far as Neil knows, but he hadn’t noted it until now, too consumed earlier in the day with wondering about what they’d find in Seth’s safety deposit box.</p><p>“I called him, but he didn’t answer,” says Andrew. “He’s probably sulking.”</p><p>“Maybe you can corner him at school tomorrow,” offers Neil. “Assuming you both actually show up for once.”</p><p>Andrew grabs a handful of chips out of a bowl and shoves them into his mouth in lieu of replying.</p><p>Neil takes the opportunity to fill him in on the video and his suspicions about Riko and Seth’s likely blackmail. Andrew listens attentively, only betraying his surprise at Riko being Jean’s murderer by blinking.</p><p>“Always knew he was a bastard,” he shrugs.</p><p>“Technically, I think his parents were married,” says Neil.</p><p>Andrew isn’t sidetracked, “A fuckface, then. It’s not that surprising, in retrospect. We already thought he killed Seth.”</p><p>“I don’t know that he did,” says Neil. “I mean, it was definitely his idea, but any of the Ravens in the fight could have done the actual deed. He just seems the type to hide behind someone.”</p><p>“Which means you still can’t prove I didn’t kill Seth,” concludes Andrew.</p><p>“Not yet,” says Neil. “But our plan of discrediting Proust isn’t dead yet. Jean may have some evidence against him mixed in with the Ravens stuff.” He goes on to explain what he realized at Renee’s—that there still may be something hidden at the Day-Moriyama mansion. “Although, I have no idea how I’m going to sneak in to look for it,” he concludes.</p><p>“You don’t think you can get an invite from Kevin?”</p><p>“And explain myself how? That I’m looking for information to prove his family are criminals? I don’t… I’m not sure he’ll be on my side. What if I don’t find anything? I’d prefer to have concrete evidence in hand before I say anything to him.”</p><p>Neil doesn’t mention he’s worried about setting off one of Kevin’s seizures by making him too emotional. It’s best if he does this secretly for now.</p><p>Andrew frowns thoughtfully, taking a cube of cheese off the serving tray closest to him. He pops it in his mouth and his expression clears. “Caterers,” he says inexplicably.</p><p>“Uh,” says Neil, not understanding. “The food?” he asks, gesturing at the spread.</p><p>“No,” says Andrew. “Well, yes. That’s what gave me the idea.”</p><p>“What idea?”</p><p>“You can get into Kevin’s place by pretending to be with the caterers,” explains Andrew. “His father always has a big Easter party, so this Saturday there will be tonnes of people in the house, including uniformed servers.”</p><p>“Oh, good idea,” says Neil, catching his wavelength. “No one ever looks closely at the help. I can sneak away to Jean’s room during the party.”</p><p>Andrew looks vaguely troubled. “I can’t go with you.” He shakes his ankle in irritation.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” says Neil. “It’s a quick in-and-out, what could happen?”</p><p>“Idiot,” grumbles Andrew. “These people are dangerous, remember? Take someone to have your back.”</p><p>“I don’t need—”</p><p>“Neil,” Andrew cuts him off. “For me. Your boyfriend.” His nose only wrinkles a little this time he says it.</p><p>“Playing dirty,” says Neil, crossing his arms. “Fine. I’ll ask Renee. Happy?”</p><p>Andrew opens his mouth to retort, before he closes it again and a wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. He takes a step closer and latches onto Neil again. “Getting there,” he says.</p>
<hr/><p>Neil felt sweat gathering under the dark wig he wore to cover his distinctive hair. It hadn’t been hard for him and Renee to infiltrate the Moriyamas’ Easter party, simply slipping in the staff entrance with the flood of similarly-dressed servers. Neil had grabbed a tray of canapes and circled the room a few times, expertly avoiding coming face to face with anyone who might recognize him. He catches sight of more than one of his classmates’ parents, as well as Tetsuji Moriyama himself. Along with his wife, Lola Malcolm is staying close to his side. Neil hugs the far side of the room.</p><p>Once his tray is empty, he makes as if heading back to the kitchens before ducking out another door away from the party. The low background murmur of conversation and background music fade as he gets farther into the residential section of the house. His steps slow as he approaches Jean’s room, old memories hitting him harder than he’d anticipated.</p><p>It’s unfair that he can still be caught unaware like this. It’s been over a year; he shouldn’t still feel like his heart has a gaping wound in it.</p><p>“You okay?” comes Renee’s soft voice from over his left shoulder, and Neil flinches violently.</p><p>“Fine,” he lies, but gets his head in order. This is no time to be distracted. He nods at Renee and pushes his way into Jean’s room.</p><p>It looks untouched, although not deserted. It’s clearly been tidied since the crime scene photos were taken, and there isn’t any visible dust. Obviously, the room is still regularly cleaned by the housekeeping staff—Neil wonders if that’s Tetsuji’s doing or Kevin’s. It seems more than a little morbid to him, keeping a room neat and ready for an owner who is never coming back. Although, he supposes the Moriyamas aren’t short on space.</p><p>Renee positions herself at the cracked-open doorway to keep watch while Neil drags the desk chair over to its position below the air conditioning vent. He briefly regrets his short stature as he has to stretch uncomfortably to loosen the screws as Jean had done more than once. Slipping the screwdriver back into his pocket, he goes up on his tiptoes to reach as far as he can into the vent, dragging out everything hidden inside.</p><p>He hugs his stolen booty to his chest as he hops off the chair and dumps it onto Jean’s waiting bed. Some of it is stuff he recognizes: a couple porn magazines, information packets on universities other than Stanford (his father was insistent both he and Kevin attend his own alma mater), a half-filled bottle of vodka. There’s a stack of letters that Neil doesn’t do more than glance at once he sees they’re all signed by Jeremy. There’s a ledger, which seems to be a neatly kept record of different bribes paid and received from various officials in and around Palmetto. And there are five CDs, labelled in Jean’s messy handwriting.</p><p>Neil powers on the computer tower on Jean’s desk and waits for it to boot.</p><p>“Neil,” hisses Renee, sounding uncharacteristically annoyed. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“I have to see what’s on these discs,” he returns, keeping his voice as quiet as possible.</p><p>“Can’t that wait?”</p><p>“I need to know it’s what we’re looking for,” he tells her, taking the few strides across the room and shoving the ledger into her arms. “I’ve got some other ideas where to look if this isn’t it, but this is likely our only chance to search.”</p><p>“Alright,” she says, conflicted. “Hurry up.”</p><p>He nods to the ledger. “You check that out while I do.”</p><p>He sifts through the CDs, picking out the one labelled “1 - The Reason” from the stack. The computer is still booting—clearly sluggish after so long sitting in disuse and trying to download updates. Neil clicks cancel on everything he can, fidgeting in impatience until the home screen appears. He opens the CD drive to feed the disc into the computer.</p><p>When the computer finally reads the disc, a window filled with documents and both picture and video files opens. Judging on the names of the files, this is exactly what Neil is looking for. Jean amassed quite a bit of evidence against his uncle and cousins. With the four other CDs, Neil’s almost certain there’s enough here to sink them, provided it’s actually damning.</p><p>Neil can’t help himself—he clicks on the first video file, named “1 - Mom’s murder”.</p><p>He breathes in sharply as it opens on Jean’s face. He seems to be recording a video message on his phone for someone—Jeremy, Neil guesses, based on how often Jean says, “I miss you”—when he’s cut off by the sound of a door slamming. Jean frowns, looking off to the side of the camera, and then goes to investigate, forgetting to halt the video. His phone is carried along with him, showing the walls and floors as Jean gets closer to the raised voices now echoing from below.</p><p>“Are your sons home?” a man’s voice asks. “What I want to discuss doesn’t concern them.”</p><p>Jean, clearly curious, reaches the top of the stairwell and crouches down, angling his phone between a couple railing slats to show the two men conversing below. It’s Tetsuji Moriyama facing off against his brother, Kengo.</p><p>Neil’s somewhat surprised: it’s well known around town that Tetsuji never spoke to or interacted with his brother before his death.</p><p>“They are not home,” says Tetsuji, his speech and manners incredibly stiff. “I would not have allowed you to come if they were.”</p><p>“I do not bend to your desires,” Kengo replies. “You have no control over my actions.”</p><p>Tetsuji bows his head in acquiescence, though he doesn’t look particularly happy about it.</p><p>“Another wife of yours is causing problems,” Kengo continues. “Twice she has missed paying the bribes to Palmetto’s county assessor. Fix it.”</p><p>“She’s scatterbrained,” defends Tetsuji. “I didn’t marry her for her intelligence. She’s not being malicious.”</p><p>“It is causing me problems. And you know what happens to your wives who cause me problems.” Kengo pauses menacingly. “Fix it. Or I will force you to make sure your latest wife joins the other two by taking a plunge over the Coronado bridge.”</p><p>In the video, Jean gasps wetly.</p><p>“She knows nothing about the Ravens,” Tetsuji argues. “She won’t try to interfere like Aline and Kayleigh.” He shows no visible emotions when mentioning either of his past wives.</p><p>The video quickly moves back to Jean’s room, as he runs away, his breathing rapid. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he mutters. His fingers fumble with the phone and the video cuts off.</p><p>Neil blinks in shock. That is even more incriminating than he’d hoped for. He needs to get these CDs to competent authorities as quickly as possible. Every minute they stay here is another minute they can be discovered and destroyed, erasing all of Jean’s hard work.</p><p>“Neil?” Renee says, shocking him out of his stupor.</p><p>He shakes his head and ejects the disc, his hands trembling. “Did you find anything?” he asks, to distract himself.</p><p>“Proust is in here,” she says, flipping the pages of the ledger back and forth.</p><p>“Bribes?” asks Neil, turning to her.</p><p>“Mmm,” she hums in agreement. “Debts and payoffs.”</p><p>“Is it enough to help Andrew?”</p><p>She nods once. “I think so,” she says, snapping the ledger closed. “At least enough to blackmail him into recanting his testimony. He won’t want this information released.” Her smile is not kind. “I can get my mother to handle it.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” asks Neil, a little taken aback by her ruthlessness.</p><p>“She’s an investigative reporter,” shrugs Renee. “She’s dealt with worse.”</p><p>Neil nods in thanks. “You should get that to her as soon as possible.”</p><p>“And you?”</p><p>“I’m giving these directly to my dad,” declares Neil. “He has contacts; he’ll know what to do.”</p><p>He picks up the five discs and bites his lip. There isn’t anywhere to hide them in his server getup and annoyingly, Neil’s disguise precluded bringing a bag of some sort with him. He glances around Jean’s room for anything useful until Renee urgently whispers a warning just before the door to the room is slammed open.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing here?” demands Kevin, enraged. “You people were told to stay out of this part of the house!”</p><p>“‘You people’?” echoes Neil, unable to help himself. “Really, Kevin?”</p><p>Kevin does a double take before scowling even more darkly. “What are you doing?” he cuts a look to the side where Renee is trying to seem as innocent as possible. “Why are you both wearing wigs? Are you <em>robbing</em> me?”</p><p>“I came to get something Jean left for me,” says Neil, sweeping a hand over the pile on the bedspread.</p><p>“What, his porn? Now?” asks Kevin incredulously. “Is this really the time?”</p><p>“It’s urgent,” argues Neil.</p><p>“How can it be? Unless you’re lying again.”</p><p>“Um,” Neil hesitates. He can tell right away that he shouldn’t have, based on Kevin’s visible anger.</p><p>“Are you still trying to prove <em>we</em> killed him?” Kevin thunders.</p><p>“Shhh,” hushes Neil. “Keep it down.” Kevin doesn’t look impressed, so Neil hurriedly implores, “I just want to find the truth. Don’t you want to know the truth?”</p><p>Kevin falters slightly.</p><p>“It may help exonerate Andrew,” Renee adds quietly.</p><p>This doesn’t help calm Kevin down. He sneers at Neil. “Ah, of course. You’re his latest fling. You know he hooks up with any willing guy, right? He thinks I don’t know, but I’m not stupid. I know he doesn’t care about any of them and you’re no different.”</p><p>“Fuck you,” says Neil heatedly. “Just because <em>you</em> didn’t want me doesn’t mean no one does.”</p><p>“I’m telling you,” starts Kevin meanly, “he’ll only hurt you. It’s what he does; he makes you think you’re friends and then he lies and hides things and stabs you in the back.” He’s panting angrily by the end of his speech.</p><p>“...This feels like a conversation you should be having with Andrew,” says Neil, “and not taking out your issues with him on me.”</p><p>Kevin’s fight leaves him completely. “He never even told me he was into you,” he admits in a small voice.</p><p>“Maybe he thought it’d make things awkward?” suggests Neil.</p><p>Kevin snorts. “Cause it’s much better this way,” he huffs. His eyes sharpen again. “What are you really doing here?”</p><p>Neil recognizes his stubbornness and knows he’s not getting out of the house without at least some sort of explanation.</p><p>“Jean was… looking into something he overheard,” Neil attempts.</p><p>“Which was?” asks Kevin, not satisfied by the half-truth.</p><p>Neil sighs. “He was looking into your mother’s murder.”</p><p>Kevin blinks in shock. “It was… it was suicide,” he says, seemingly in an effort to convince himself. “It wasn’t… she wasn’t… it was an accident.”</p><p>“That’s what he thought. But he overheard a conversation that indicated otherwise and started investigating.”</p><p>“Is <em>everyone</em> suddenly an amateur detective?” gripes Kevin. “Who did he think did it?”</p><p>Neil winces. “Your dad,” he admits. “Because of your uncle’s orders.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t…” whispers Kevin, staring in disbelief. “He hated his brother, why would he obey him?”</p><p>“I have video evidence,” says Neil, holding up the discs.</p><p>“Jean would have told me,” says Kevin blankly. “Why didn’t he tell me?” He looks up at Neil with imploring eyes.</p><p>“To protect you,” says Neil, almost vibrating out of his skin with the need to run, to be far away from the Moriyamas’ property. “Kevin, I have to go.”</p><p>Kevin doesn’t seem to understand at first, before his eyes narrow. “Where?”</p><p>“To get these discs to the proper authorities. To get justice for Jean.”</p><p>“I—” Kevin collapses into Jean’s desk chair, looking small and lost.</p><p>“Go,” Renee says, taking a couple steps closer. She makes eye contact with Neil. “I’ll take care of him.”</p><p>Neil opens his mouth—to say what, he doesn’t know—but Renee just waves him off again. “Make sure they pay for it.”</p><p>Neil takes a couple steps back, before stopping and addressing Kevin, “Are you alright?” he asks. Is he going to have an episode, he means.</p><p>“No,” answers Kevin, a grim smile on his lips. “But I’ll live.”</p><p>Neil nods and leaves the room, carefully skirting around the party to get back to his car parked outside the servants’ entrance. He takes a chance and calls his dad on the way through the empty hallways.</p><p>“Neil? What’s up?”</p><p>“Dad,” Neil practically sobs, emotions spilling over. He’s finally figured it out, he’s <em>solved it</em>. And now people are finally going to pay.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” His dad’s voice is threaded with worry. “Stay where you are; I’ll come get you.”</p><p>“I can’t—I—I’m on my way home now,” stutters Neil. “I <em>found</em> it.”</p><p>“What did you find?”</p><p>“What Jean was hiding,” spills Neil. “I’m bringing it to you; I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”</p><p>“Which way?” asks his dad. “Come straight here, no detours.”</p><p>“Along Perimeter,” Neil tells him. As the name implies, Perimeter Road skirts around Palmetto proper like a bypass, and is therefore the fastest way to get from one end of town to the other without having to go through a million stop signs and lights.</p><p>“Alright,” sighs his dad. “Please try to calm down. I’ll hang up now to let you concentrate on driving. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” replies Neil wetly, ending the call and pulling himself together before passing through the busy kitchen.</p><p>His hands are shaking by the time he makes it to his car and he fumbles his keys, dropping them, the discs, and his phone on the ground. He swears as he gathers them up, bundling everything into one hand. After bending to pick them up, he uses his door handle to hoist himself up, almost falling when the door opens. Apparently he’d been too nervous and distracted earlier to bother locking his car. He chastises himself for his lapse.</p><p>He tosses his phone carelessly on the passenger seat and then takes the time to securely shove the CDs into his messenger bag. Twisting the keys in the ignition, he starts his car and then eases it out of its parking space and up the Day-Moriyamas’ winding driveway.</p><p>He’s made the trip between this house and his own more times than he can easily count, but the road seems endless this time. It’s dark; no one lives along here and the streetlights are few and far between. The ambience is making him nervous. He feels the need to keep checking his bag for the discs, as the back of his neck prickles in unease.</p><p>“Ridiculous,” he chides himself. There’s no reason anyone should know what he has with him. Even if someone found Kevin and he spilled the secret, no one could have caught up to him by now. Besides, the road is dark enough that he’d notice the headlights of anyone in pursuit.</p><p>He double checks his rearview mirror just to be sure. His eyes flick to it just as he passes underneath one of the sparse streetlights and it illuminates a woman’s face smiling at him from the backseat.</p><p>He gasps in fright, almost losing control of his car.</p><p>The woman’s smile widens. “Hello, Junior,” coos Lola Malcolm.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't believe this fic has passed the 100k word mark. I remember a time when, naively, I thought it might not reach the 50k goal for NaNoWriMo! Anyway, this chapter contains character injury and mild torture (less graphic than canon)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The car swerves as Neil flinches in response to Lola Malcolm’s greeting.</p><p>“The fuck?!” he cries, avoiding slamming on the brakes. He needs a plan. Stopping in the middle of nowhere with a possible psychopath is not a viable option.</p><p>“Don’t look so surprised,” she says, sliding to the middle of the bench seat from where she’s been hiding crouched behind the driver’s seat.</p><p>“Forgive me for not expecting a lunatic hiding out in my backseat,” Neil gripes. He knows he shouldn’t provoke her, but he can’t help himself.</p><p>“Aw, kitty’s got tiny little claws,” Lola replies, looking delighted. Then she turns serious and leans forward to speak directly in his ear, “You should know better; you’ve already gotten several warnings.”</p><p>Neil suppresses a shiver. “Maybe I’m slow.”</p><p>“You get it from your mother,” she nods.</p><p>“She was quick enough to kill my father,” Neil responds hotly, his temper not doing him any favours. “Weren’t you working for him as security?”</p><p>She doesn’t take the bait. “You’ve been sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you,” she continues. “As soon as I clocked you at the party, I figured I should hitch a ride to see what you were up to.”</p><p>“That’s crazy,” protests Neil. “Maybe I was just there to vandalize Kevin’s room.”</p><p>“Or maybe you found the ledger that’s been missing for over a year,” she says.</p><p>“I don’t have it,” Neil says, immediately worrying about Renee’s safety.</p><p>“You have something,” she replies, reaching for his bag.</p><p>Neil slaps her hand away and pushes the bag onto the floor, out of her reach.</p><p>Lola cackles, sounding deranged. “See? I should probably thank you for your Hardy Boy imitation. Without you, we never would have found where that brat Jean hid it.”</p><p>“I thought you worked for Tetsuji,” says Neil, still stalling while trying to come up with a way this doesn’t end badly for him.</p><p>“I keep an eye on him for his brother—well, nephew, now.”</p><p>“Did you know your current boss is the one responsible for Kengo’s death?” Neil’s grasping. It falls in line with what his mother said about doing a favour for the “little Lord”, but it’s not like he has proof. “You’re willing to work for someone who killed your last employer?”</p><p>Lola only laughs in response. “You’re trying to test my loyalty? You don’t know anything.” She sits back a bit and brandishes a knife, it glints in his peripheral vision. “Now, quit stalling. I’m afraid you know a little too much, so you’re going to drive to an abandoned property off the PCH and I’m going to get rid of you. If you resist, I’ll make sure to kill your father, your tiny blond boyfriend, and anyone I even suspect of being your friend. Cooperate and they can mourn you in peace, got it?”</p><p>Neil nods jerkily, yanks once on his seatbelt to make sure it’s fastened properly, and accelerates into the nearest tree.</p><p>The crash is unpleasant, to put it mildly. His airbag cushions the brunt of it, but he still slams his head into his steering wheel and ends up dazed. Lola, not wearing a seatbelt, is thrown forward between the front seats, thunking her head solidly into the gear shift.</p><p>Neil shakes himself, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. His thoughts are running sluggishly, like molasses. He brushes off the broken glass covering him, confused where it came from, until he notices the windshield has been smashed in. Lola seems to be unconscious—she’s bleeding profusely from a head wound, but he can hear the rattle of her lungs—and is slumped half into the passenger seat.</p><p>His left shoulder protests and the knee he injured the year previously twinges as he stretches across the car, trying not to jostle or alert Lola, to reach for his bag. He whimpers in pain and hopes he hasn’t broken anything.</p><p>His fingers finally clasp the fabric of his bag and he hoists it up into his arms, fishing the all-important CDs out. He spends another precious few moments searching for his phone, but he can’t locate it in the wreckage. He unwillingly gives up; he needs to get away before Lola wakes up and decides killing him here is a good idea.</p><p>The car door doesn’t want to open, but he finally manages to force it, crying from the pain. He has to twist to hit it with his right hand as his left arm is hanging oddly and he can’t move it easily; he thinks his shoulder might be dislocated. He holds it close to his body, using it to keep the CDs securely pressed against his chest.</p><p>Feeling like he’s tearing his body into pieces, he drags himself out of the car and starts limping along the road, trying to put as much distance between the wreck and himself as he can. He can’t stay out in the open; what if Lola has backup coming? He should… he should hide the discs. If someone else does show up, he doesn’t want them to be found. He takes note of the mile marker and darts into the stretch of forest beside the road.</p><p>He limp-runs as straight a path as possible, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain radiating out from his knee. He trips over the undergrowth and falls into the mud more than once, but each time he gets back up, adrenaline and panic propelling him onward. Once he judges he’s about midway through the bit of woodland, he frantically searches for a landmark. He spies a uniquely shaped tree with a deep split in its trunk and shoves the discs into the split, covering them as well as he can with dirt and leaves to hide them from any searchers. He’s gasping for air once he’s finished and he takes a moment to collect himself before heading off in a new direction. He’s aiming for the far side of the wooded patch; he thinks he’s near a residential area of Palmetto. Maybe he can find help.</p><p>Somehow he must have gotten turned around, because when he emerges from the forest, he’s back on Perimeter Road, close to his totalled car. He squints at it, confused. Out of the corner of his eye he catches movement, but he’s too slow to get away before he’s grabbed and roughly shoved face first into the bark of a tree.</p><p>“Thought you could get rid of me that easily?” rasps Lola’s voice in his ear. “I’m made of tougher stuff than that.”</p><p>Neil struggles, but she’s wiry and strong, and he’s flagging from his injuries. She pulls his arms behind his back, making Neil vision white out in pain as she wrenches his hurt shoulder. When he comes to, he’s collapsed on the ground and she’s fastening handcuffs around his wrists.</p><p>She flips him over and pats him down, her hands lingering too long against his legs.</p><p>“Hmm,” she hums in his ear. “You look so much like your daddy.”</p><p>“Bitch,” snarls Neil, trying to buck her off.</p><p>She tightens her grip around his injured knee until he can’t help but yelp in pain. “I have very little patience with you and you’ve already run through it,” she says, digging in her nails. “Where did you hide the evidence?”</p><p>“Fuck you,” Neil gasps.</p><p>She sighs, like she’s deeply disappointed in him, and stands up, scruffing him by the neck and pulling him after her. He scrambles in the dirt, trying not to faceplant, and wincing with every step. She drags him towards his wreck of a car and he gets a good look at the accident scene for the first time. His trusty LeBaron is completely smashed in and Neil can’t help but feel a pang of remorse for the demise of his trusty vehicle. Of course, he’ll count himself lucky if he can get out of this situation alive, which is not looking particularly likely at this juncture.</p><p>Lola throws him down onto the pavement into the pool of light made by his broken headlights. She pushes him back until he’s propped up by his car and crouches over him, her eyes glittering with malevolence and madness.</p><p>“See, Junior, the thing is: everybody talks,” she says casually, reaching into one of her pockets. “Sure, some people hold out longer than others, but believe me: pain breaks everyone eventually. It’ll really be easier—for you, of course. I’m going to enjoy this immensely—if you just tell me what you found at the Moriyamas’ and where you hid it. I’ll still kill you, but it’ll hurt less if you cooperate.” She pulls out a Bic lighter and sparks a small flame.</p><p>Neil quakes with fear; he doesn’t doubt her threats at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries, suffusing his voice with bravado.</p><p>She runs the hand not holding the lighter through his hair and jerks it back, her nails digging into his scalp. The other hand brings the lighter closer to his face, near his left eye.</p><p>“Apparently Riko wanted to mar this pretty face with a tattoo,” she practically coos. “His big brother wasn’t very happy about how he ran his mouth to you at the <em>Three-Legged Crow</em>, although I don’t know why he was surprised. Kid’s always been a self-important loudmouth. He probably should have been killed in his cradle.”</p><p>Neil feels ill at the prospect of agreeing with an obvious psychopath.</p><p>“The little Lord’s going to have to do something about him sooner or later,” she continues. “I hope he lets me do it. He really did screw everything up when he killed Tetsuji’s kid.”</p><p>Neil’s heart stutters. He’s already deduced that Riko is the most likely candidate to be Jean’s murderer, but it’s somehow different to hear it confirmed out loud.</p><p>“Too bad Kengo sent him to military school instead of a harsher punishment,” Lola muses. “It’s only made him that much more insufferable.”</p><p>Neil is perfectly happy to let her continue monologuing, but she seems to snap to attention. “I think you gave me a concussion, you rotten brat,” she says, focusing on him again. “My mind’s all over the place. Now, tell me. Where did you hide the evidence? I’ll ask again, but you won’t enjoy it.”</p><p>Neil clamps his lips together and doesn’t answer her. She doesn’t seem particularly annoyed, flicking the lighter in her hand back to life.</p><p>“This would be more fun with accelerant or even a dashboard lighter, but I think your car is toast,” she says nonchalantly. “This is hardly even hot enough to burn.”</p><p>It definitely feels hot enough as she brings it close to his face. He tries to jerk his head away, but her grip is too tight. He can’t help the whimper he makes as the lighter nears his eye, and he slams both his eyes shut to protect them.</p><p>He screams in pain as she presses the open flame into his cheek, all the nerves along the left side of his face frantically crying out.</p><p>The flame pulls back and Neil breathes out in relief before bracing himself for more agony. Instead, he hears running feet and then a grunt.</p><p>When he opens his eyes, Lola has been tackled out of the way and is grappling with someone in the darkness. Neil can hear more than he can see, but it seems Lola’s attacker has gotten an upper hand, as she shrieks with displeasure. There is the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a sickening crack as Lola falls silent. A scrape of metal and the familiar click of handcuffs sounds, as the attacker presumably restrains her, and then the dark outline of the person rises from the ground and heads in his direction.</p><p>Neil’s eyes attempt to focus on the figure as it staggers towards him, and he practically sobs in relief as he steps into the light and reveals himself to be his father.</p><p>“Dad,” he hiccups, tears running down his cheeks.</p><p>“Neil, Jesus Christ,” says his dad, hurrying to Neil’s side. “Are you alright?”</p><p>Before Neil can do more than shake his head, his dad has his phone out and is dialing emergency services. His free hand carefully brushes over Neil’s hair, patting him gently to look for injuries. Neil wants to dunk his face in ice water to stop the burn from hurting so much, but he settles for leaning forward to rest his forehead on his dad’s shoulder.</p><p>His injured knee and shoulder complain as he moves, but their pain is secondary to his burnt cheek. He wonders what it looks like: will he be permanently scarred? It’s hard to care about, the dread barely registering next to the overwhelming relief of knowing his dad is here.</p><p>He lets the comforting rumble of his dad’s voice convince him of his safety. He doesn’t take in any of the words, but he assumes that his dad is calling every first responder in Palmetto.</p><p>Eventually his dad stops talking and makes Neil sit up properly to address his injuries.</p><p>“Dad, the discs,” says Neil, needing him to know where they are. “If you walk straight into the woods at mile marker 81 and find the split tree, that’s where they are.”</p><p>“That’s not important right now,” says his dad, wincing as he takes a closer look at Neil’s burn.</p><p>“<em>Dad</em>,” stresses Neil. “It’s evidence, it’s what Jean, it can ruin the Moriyamas. It’s what he died for. You have to get it.”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“Promise me,” demands Neil.</p><p>“I promise I’ll take care of it,” says his dad. “As soon as you’re safely in an ambulance, okay? Now hold on a sec, I’ve got a first aid kit in the car.” He starts pulling away.</p><p>“No, Dad, no,” says Neil, feeling panicked. “Don’t leave me alone. Please.” He tries to reach for him, but his hands are still cuffed behind his back.</p><p>“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” soothes his dad, cradling his head gently. “I’m not going anywhere; you’re safe. She can’t hurt you anymore, I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Will they take you away?” asks Neil, his lungs tight.</p><p>“Who?” says his dad. “No one can take me away from you.”</p><p>“If you killed her, she’s got connections. What if you go to jail?” Black spots dance in Neil’s vision as he struggles to breathe.</p><p>“Hey, Neil, calm down,” says his dad seriously, using his grip on Neil’s skull to force eye contact. “She’s not dead, just unconscious. Besides, she was hurting you. They may charge me, but no one will ever convict me, alright? Breathe for me.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” asks Neil, his voice thin and reedy.</p><p>“Yeah, kid, I’m sure. You’re safe now.”</p><p>“I love you,” Neil tells him as relief washes through him, completely rinsing out the adrenaline. He slumps in exhaustion. He can rest now; his dad’s here to take care of everything. His vision contracts and the last thing he’s aware of is his dad’s worried pleas for him to stay awake.</p>
<hr/><p>He wakes on a sun lounger when a shadow falls over him.</p><p>“Fuck off,” he mutters up at the person disturbing him, without opening his eyes.</p><p>In response, the shadow leaves. Neil settles back into his sunbathing for another undisturbed minute before he’s splashed with icy water.</p><p>“You—!” he exclaims, sitting up in outrage.</p><p>Jean is crouched beside the pool, looking annoyingly smug. Neil doesn’t give him any time to bask in his victory, he jumps off his chair and tackles Jean into the pool.</p><p>They surface, sputtering and laughing, and spend the next few minutes trying to cheerfully drown each other. When they tire of that, they grab a couple pool noodles and float flat on their backs, staring up at the blue, blue sky.</p><p>“Asshole,” says Neil affectionately. “Why couldn’t you let me sleep?”</p><p>“Boring,” sniffs Jean. “Besides, you can’t sleep forever.”</p><p>“Watch me,” mutters Neil. He turns his head to the side to look at Jean. “Hey. I miss you.”</p><p>“Understandable,” says Jean haughtily. “Without me, you’re stuck with a bunch of clowns.”</p><p>Neil snorts a laugh and watches the way the water ripples around him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>Jean’s face does something complicated. “It wasn’t safe.”</p><p>Neil opens his mouth to argue, but before he can Jean speaks again, “If it was the other way around, would you have told me?”</p><p>“Maybe,” says Neil mulishly.</p><p>Jean scoffs. “Because you’ve shared so many of your recent problems with your friends?”</p><p>“None of them are you.”</p><p>“How could they be?” asks Jean, smiling small and private to himself.</p><p>“Could I have saved you?” Neil presses. “If you’d told me?”</p><p>“We’ll never know,” says Jean placidly.</p><p>They continue to float, but now the sky is starting to dim.</p><p>“Not yet,” pleads Neil. “Just a little longer.”</p><p>“You can’t stay,” says Jean. “You have to go back.”</p><p>“I miss you,” Neil says again. “I don’t want to be alone.”</p><p>“You’re not alone,” chides Jean, his tone warm.</p><p>“It’s not the same.”</p><p>“No,” Jean acknowledges. “It’s not.” He clears his throat. “Promise me something?”</p><p>“Anything,” agrees Neil instantly.</p><p>“Don’t forget me.”</p><p>Neil shakes his head and feels tears prick at his eyes. “I could never.”</p>
<hr/><p>When Neil wakes up for real, he is in pain and a familiar voice is speaking to him. He can’t pick out the individual words, but the cadence isn’t quite right for conversation. He listens for a while, the words slipping tractionlessly across his mind like it’s made of ice. After some amount of time (it could be ten seconds or several hours for all the grasp of time he has), he wills himself to open his eyes.</p><p>The room is bright and sterile, a hospital. He has several tubes attached to him and Andrew is sitting in a low chair by his bedside, reading a book out loud. Neil must make a noise or a movement to catch his attention as it’s not long before he raises his eyes and cuts himself off mid-sentence.</p><p>“You’re awake,” he says, not sounding particularly surprised or relieved. He sets the book down and picks up a half-filled plastic water glass with a straw sticking out of it. “Thirsty?”</p><p>Neil nods gratefully—his throat feels like he swallowed a bunch of sand—and lets Andrew prop him up using the bed’s controls and feed him the water. Despite being room temperature and a little dusty, it’s possible the best mouthful of water Neil has ever tasted. He gulps thirstily, draining the cup.</p><p>Andrew sets it down and looks back over at him. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Confused,” croaks Neil. “Why are you here?”</p><p>“What, can’t a guy pine away at his boyfriend’s sickbed?” deadpans Andrew.</p><p>“Not when he’s under house arrest,” returns Neil. He shifts in bed and winces at the stiffness of his muscles. His head is throbbing, but his knee and shoulder are both bothering him less than he expected based on how they felt before he passed out.</p><p>“You’re behind the times,” says Andrew. “I’m a free man now.”</p><p>“And my dad?” asks Neil, voicing the worry that hit him as soon as he wasn’t in the room when he woke up.</p><p>“Busy,” Andrew tells him. “He’s been working with the feds for the past few days as they round up the Moriyamas and the Ravens. Including Proust, the bastard.” The way he speaks sounds like it’s not the first time he’s relayed this information.</p><p>“Days?” echoes Neil. “How long have I been here?”</p><p>“Five days,” replies Andrew, and something about the heaviness in his eyes assures Neil he’s not exaggerating. “It turns out that running through the forest with open injuries is a good way to get an infection. You’ve been out of your mind with fever.”</p><p>“I don’t remember,” says Neil.</p><p>“I know,” says Andrew patiently. “We’ve had this conversation more than once.”</p><p>“Sorry,” says Neil, feeling guilty.</p><p>Andrew dismisses his apology. “You were pretty out of it,” he says. “You kept talking to people who weren't here and you rarely recognized us.”</p><p>“Us?”</p><p>“I’m not the only one who has been pining at your sickbed. Boyd, Wilds, and your dad were all here for long stretches. Renee and Reynolds both came by and a couple other of your admirers dropped by with presents.” Andrew nods to the far side of the room, to a large pile of flowers and cards.</p><p>“Oh,” says Neil, unsure how to feel about the outpouring of support. He slumps with exhaustion, which makes his shoulder twinge. “What else is wrong with me?”</p><p>“Besides the obvious?” asks Andrew. “Like going off alone with a murderer when I specifically told you to make sure someone had your back?”</p><p>“It’s not like I did that on purpose,” complains Neil. He pouts at Andrew and then winces as the movement pulls on his cheek.</p><p>Andrew is immediately solicitous, moving to press the button on Neil’s morphine pump. “You got a mild concussion, sprained your knee, and dislocated your shoulder when you crashed your car,” he says, picking up Neil’s hand and playing with his fingers. “And you have a second-degree burn on your face. All of which should heal fine, although you’ll probably have a couple new scars.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Neil apologizes again, seeing the way the corner of Andrew’s mouth pulls down.</p><p>“Don’t say stupid things,” says Andrew, standing so he can lean over to press a kiss to Neil’s forehead.</p><p>Neil tries to chase his lips for a kiss, but Andrew pulls back sharply. “Five days you’ve been asleep,” Andrew stresses. “I like you, but not enough to kiss you when your breath smells like that.”</p><p>Neil reluctantly admits he might have a point; it does taste like a small rodent died in his mouth. He wants to tease Andrew for admitting he likes him, but somehow ends up bursting into tears instead.</p><p>Andrew looks panicked, ineffectually patting at Neil’s head.</p><p>“It’s over,” sobs Neil, unable to believe it himself. Everything from the past year and a half is hitting him at once, everything he’s been repressing and not letting himself think about; he feels like he’s made up of nerve endings.</p><p>Andrew cups his hand around the back of Neil’s neck and pulls his head against his chest, letting him cry while slowly stroking his other hand up and down Neil’s back. Neil cries himself out, until his face is crusty with dried tears and snot and he can barely keep his eyes open from exhaustion.</p><p>“Sorry,” he says for the third time when he sees the state of Andrew’s shirt.</p><p>Andrew settles him back down in the bed. “Sleep,” he says.</p><p>“I have more questions,” Neil protests through a yawn; the morphine has kicked in and he’s starting to feel like he’s floating. “How’s Kevin doing?”</p><p>“He’s been better, but Renee’s taking care of him.”</p><p>“And—”</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” promises Andrew, cutting him off. “This can wait for later. Go back to sleep.”</p><p>“Mkay,” mumbles Neil, reaching out for Andrew’s hand.</p><p>Andrew clasps his hand between both of his own, and runs his roughly callused thumb along the back of it. “Hey Neil,” he says quietly.</p><p>“Mmph?”</p><p>“Happy Birthday.”</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is it! Finally!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil slams the door of his—borrowed—car. His trusty LeBaron was a write off after the crash and he hasn’t replaced it yet. Mostly because Andrew keeps trying to just <em>give</em> him a car, like that’s in any way normal. He’s got a line on a couple older used cars, but he’s been dragging his feet. There’s just no way a Ford Focus is going to live up to his beautiful convertible.</p><p>For today, he’s able to borrow his dad’s car, since his dad hitched a ride with Kevin. He usually honestly doesn’t often notice the absence of his own—Andrew seems more than willing to chauffeur him anywhere he wants to go. Neil thinks his insistence on accompanying him everywhere is only about eighty percent due to not wanting to let Neil out of his sight. It turns out that getting kidnapped and injured ramped up the protectiveness of Neil’s friends and family. It’s been months, but he still gets smothered by their attention on a regular basis. Neil only got Andrew to agree not to pick him up by promising to text when he was on his way over. Not that he did; he wants to surprise him.</p><p>There’s a large collection of construction equipment along the east side of the Spears’ property. He can hear the grinding noise of the engines and the loud crunching of demolition. He skirts around the main house, knowing Andrew will be out in his pool house at this time of day and wanting to avoid any unnecessary conversation with Richard Spear.</p><p>He knocks twice on the glass door before entering. Andrew looks up at him, his face morphing from suspicion to something like fondness once he recognizes him.</p><p>“What’s with the…?” asks Neil, gesturing in the direction of the barely-muffled machinery noises.</p><p>“Getting rid of the other pool house,” says Andrew, reaching in Neil’s direction. As soon as Neil gets within grabbing distance, he pulls him down into a welcoming kiss. “You were supposed to text,” he grumbles.</p><p>“As you can see, I managed not to get kidnapped driving across town.”</p><p>“For once,” says Andrew. He doesn’t release his grip on Neil. “I thought you weren’t coming until later.”</p><p>“Finished up at work faster than I thought,” says Neil, adjusting himself so he’s sitting next to Andrew’s beanbag chair, instead of awkwardly hovering above him. “Any reason the demolition is happening now? I mean, I get why you want it gone, it just seems like a random time.”</p><p>“Dad’s selling the place,” says Andrew nonchalantly, like he hasn’t just said anything worrying. “He’s decided to move to Australia permanently.”</p><p>“Why Australia?”</p><p>“Who knows,” shrugs Andrew. “I think he’s trying to get as far away from Cass as possible, but to a country where they still speak English. More or less.”</p><p>“Did he already file for divorce?” asks Neil. Andrew has already informed him about his father’s plan.</p><p>“As soon as Drake’s trial concluded.”</p><p>Drake’s trial ended up being quickly open and shut, which was abnormal for such a high profile event. Even in the face of an unequivocal guilty verdict and a sentence of life imprisonment, Andrew’s adoptive mother is still fighting for her biological son’s freedom, while completely ignoring her adoptive son. Richard Spear didn’t take long to decide he wanted nothing more to do with her or Drake.</p><p>“And you?” asks Neil, trying to sound innocently curious. “Are you also moving to Australia?”</p><p>Andrew huffs a sigh and grips the back of Neil’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “You should know that by now.”</p><p>“Hmm,” agrees Neil, letting himself be drawn into another kiss. They make out lazily for a while, until Neil realizes he has follow up questions.</p><p>“Have you decided what you’re going to do next year, then?”</p><p>Apparently, the chaos of the past year meant Andrew hasn’t bothered to make any plans for the future. Neil was appalled when he found out he hadn’t applied to any colleges. Neil’s own acceptance (with sizable scholarship) to the nearby Hearst college had arrived a few weeks after his run-in with Lola, so he is all set as long as he passes his rapidly approaching final exams.</p><p>He is grateful for the money; he’d returned to his mother’s safety deposit box after everything with the Moriyamas happened and had found it emptied of cash. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that his mother kept her own copy of the key. He wishes he’d taken at least some of it when he had the chance.</p><p>“Mm, yeah,” replies Andrew. “I’m also going to Hearst.”</p><p>Neil narrows his eyes. “You missed the application deadline by months.”</p><p>“My dad made a donation and the admissions board was appreciative.”</p><p>Neil sighs and rolls his eyes. “Your privilege sickens me.”</p><p>“Sadly for you, that’s not going to stop me from taking advantage of it.”</p><p>Neil rests his head against Andrew’s shoulder. He’s not sad at all about this development. “Where are you going to live? On campus?”</p><p>He’s personally going to live at home to save money, but Matt’s planning on living in the dorms. He’s already made many plans that involve going to parties and Neil crashing in his dorm for the night. Hopefully he doesn’t end up with an awful roommate.</p><p>“I’m going to get a place off campus,” says Andrew. He pauses, likely for dramatic effect. “...With Kevin.”</p><p>“Wait, really?” Neil looks up at him for confirmation.</p><p>Kevin has been a complete mess recently. After his father, step-mother, and a large portion of their staff were arrested on charges ranging from murder to bribery, Kevin fell apart. He distanced himself from everyone, spectacularly dumping Thea in a public drunken shouting match, and refused to speak to any of his friends. If not for Renee, with her kind, no-nonsense attitude, he may have ended up with alcohol poisoning in the early days when Neil was still in the hospital.</p><p>For whatever reason, Kevin’s biggest grudge is against Andrew. Neil doesn’t understand the reasoning—especially since Kevin doesn’t seem to have a problem with <em>him</em> and he’s the one who got Kevin’s entire family arrested.</p><p>Andrew’s theory is that Kevin is feeling particularly helpless and is lashing out at the one person at whom he can justify his anger. He can’t get mad at Neil because he was literally tortured by an employee of his father’s; he can’t get mad at Jean because he’s a victim and he’s dead; he <em>is</em> mad at his dad (incandescently so), but he’s in federal prison so he can’t take out his anger on him; same goes for Riko, Jean’s actual murderer. But he can be angry at Andrew, even if it’s for such a petty reason as dating his ex-boyfriend.</p><p>“Are you guys talking again?” Neil asks. He saw Kevin earlier in the day, but he hadn’t mentioned it.</p><p>“We punched it out,” says Andrew, lifting the edge of his t-shirt to show a dark mottled bruise on his abs.</p><p>Neil runs his fingers along it and Andrew shivers. “Should I kiss it better?” snarks Neil.</p><p>Andrew raises an eyebrow and rucks his shirt up higher to give him better access. They’re distracted again for another long while.</p><p>“Is it going to be awkward?” Neil eventually asks. “What if I want to spend the night at yours?”</p><p>Andrew’s eyes darken at the thought. They’re still taking things slowly, but that doesn’t mean they’re doing <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>“Aren’t you two practically brothers now?”</p><p>“Ugh,” groans Neil. “It’s the worst.”</p><p>Kevin’s been living with Renee and her mother, but recently has made overtures at getting to know his own biological father. Which Neil isn’t the biggest fan of, since that means he spends a lot of time with the Wymack family. It’s especially irksome given how little he gets to see his dad anymore.</p><p>The federal investigation into the Moriyamas has been arduous and is still ongoing. On top of that, media attention of the scandal means Palmetto is chock full of reporters milling around, looking for a scoop. Despite some attempts to drag Neil into the spotlight—features painting him as a tragic figure, hellbent on avenging his dead best friend and redeeming his father’s name started popping up as soon as the story broke—he doesn’t want any credit for unearthing the truth. In order to protect him, his father has been shielding him from the press, which has the unwanted effect of taking up even more of his limited time. He’s barely home anymore, and when he is, Neil has to share him.</p><p>Kevin has instituted father-son bonding activities; Neil’s dad seems mainly bemused by this, but goes along with whatever Kevin wants, always inviting Neil along, too. Usually he declines. Today the two of them have gone to the zoo together, which strikes Neil as an odd thing to do. Whatever, it doesn’t bother him, not really, except that Kevin’s got it into his head that he should live with them for a couple weeks for some arcane reason. Which means they’re currently sharing a bedroom. Which has ended up being less awkward than Neil imagined, although still annoying, since Kevin snores.</p><p>“He’s the worst roommate of all time,” starts Neil, before he catches Andrew’s amused expression. “I mean, he’s great,” he corrects himself hastily. “Have fun with that.”</p><p>“We’ll set rules,” Andrew says. “He’s going to have to be alright with you staying over, because I’m not living somewhere you‘re not comfortable.”</p><p>“Aw, would you miss me?” teases Neil.</p><p>“Yes,” says Andrew simply, running his thumb along the smooth, shiny scar on Neil’s cheekbone.</p><p>Neil feels himself blushing and buries his face until he stops. “Do you have any plans for graduation next week?”</p><p>“I don’t think my dad knows it’s happening,” muses Andrew. “Which is fine with me.”</p><p>Neil narrows his eyes. “<em>Are</em> you graduating?”</p><p>“Unless I fail all my exams.”</p><p>“You could probably bribe your way into a pass, anyway.”</p><p>“But I don’t need to,” says Andrew. “I’m very smart, you know.”</p><p>“Well, obviously,” replies Neil. “You’re in love with me, after all.”</p><p>It slips out without his permission. They haven’t said it to each other yet. Neil thinks he feels it: with the way his chest goes tight when Andrew looks at him a certain way, and the way he can’t help smiling whenever he sees him. He thinks Andrew feels it, too; Andrew’s never been one for words, but he’s deliberate with his actions. It’s in the way he touches Neil’s bare skin almost reverently, and holds his hand without care when walking through the hallways at school. In the way he makes an effort to get along with Matt and Dan, and how polite he is to Neil’s father. In the way he brings Neil coffee and joins him on early morning dog walks and hangs around the Wymack Investigations office to keep Neil company when he’s working.</p><p>Andrew meets Neil’s gaze, the hazel of his eyes boring into Neil’s own. “I am,” he declares.</p><p>Neil’s heart thumps wildly in his chest and he can feel a sunny smile breaking across his face. He can’t believe he almost missed this; that he almost died, and that at the beginning of the year he wouldn’t have even minded if he had. “Well that’s good,” he manages. “Because I am, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my god, you guys, I can't believe this is finished. This has probably been the most emotionally exhausting thing I've ever written and I had to take long breaks in between writing large chunks of it. I never expected the reaction I've gotten to it, and I love each and every person who has been following along and commenting. You guys are the reason I pushed to finish this up; I know many of you are sad it's over but I'm so relieved and happy. Please drop me a line to let me know your thoughts; I always love hearing from you &lt;3</p><p>I can be found on tumblr <a href="http://gluupor.tumblr.com">@gluupor</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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